


The Fight

by thornfield_girl



Category: Justified
Genre: Betrayal, Bittersweet, Blow Jobs, Choices, Gay Rights, M/M, Memories, Outdoor Sex, Regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/pseuds/thornfield_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raylan and Boyd loved each other when they were young, and their choices forced them apart. How does that affect the current state of affairs? Can they be honest with each other again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was Tuesday morning, and Raylan was up with the sun, heading up into the hills. His shift at the mine didn't start until 9, but he had something more important lined up for earlier. 

As he came over the rise of a hill, he caught the glint of early morning sunshine on a bumper, parked in some brush by the side of the road. Raylan parked next to it and hopped out to find Boyd Crowder sitting in the cab, a paperback in his lap. 

Raylan got in on the passenger side and sat there while Boyd put a matchbook in to hold his place and put the book down. 

Only then did Boyd look up and smile at him. "Morning, Raylan," he said, then leaned in close and kissed him, soft-lipped and gentle, warmth instead of heat, but something stirred in Raylan anyway. Boyd's hand curled against his neck, loosely grasping, and Raylan took in a quick breath, letting out a light, broken sigh. 

He would have liked to just push Boyd down on the truck seat right then and there, but of course that was incredibly dangerous. They were too close to the road, anyone could come by and see them. 

"I got coffee in a thermos and like half an apple pie that Arlo is gonna be pissed is gone," Raylan said. "You bring blankets?"

"Yeah, I got 'em," Boyd said, then frowned at Raylan. "Apple pie for breakfast, really?"

Raylan shrugged. "If you put apple pie filling in dough and fry it up, it's called an apple turnover. What difference does it make?"

Boyd tilted his head, as if pondering this, then said, "Alright. I accept your logic. Plus it'll make you taste like cinnamon, and there ain't no way that's bad."

Raylan laughed and shook his head, still slightly weirded out by Boyd's comfort level with what they'd been doing. It had only been three weeks since the first time - since they'd told - and even Boyd had been scared that night. Rightly so, Raylan thought. It could have been a disaster, a goddamn tragedy even, if one of them had misjudged the other's intentions or desires.

Boyd turned the key in the ignition and pulled back onto the road, heading up further into the hills, past where the road turned to packed dirt and the houses were spaced far apart and set way back. Raylan glanced at his watch; it was quarter to seven, they still had plenty of time.

Finally, Boyd pulled in behind an old barn, the grass and weeds reaching almost to the windows. The barn had been on the same property as a farmhouse which had been burned down as long as either of them could remember. 

Inside the barn it was much cooler, still holding on to the night air. Dust motes and tiny golden pieces of old hay danced in the light streaming in through broken slats and a hole in the roof. There was evidence of prior use; there were beer cans and a used condom, some moldy porno rags and chip bags, but it didn't smell bad - mostly like hay. 

"You want to go up in the loft?" Boyd asked.

Raylan snorted and asked, "You want to explain what we were doing here after one of us breaks his fucking leg falling through rotted boards?"

"Fair point," Boyd said, spreading the blanket out on the floor. Raylan set the food and coffee down, then sat down himself, stretching his legs out next to Boyd's, facing him. 

Boyd smiled at him, rubbing his foot against Raylan's calf. He kept that up as he said, "You hear about that teacher down in Bell County?" When Raylan shook his head, Boyd continued. "Got fired for bein' queer. They found out he was living with some other old homo, and they fired him."

Raylan frowned. He couldn't think why Boyd would be bringing this up right now. He reached out for Boyd's hand and pulled him forward, and Boyd gave in easily, laying himself out next to Raylan on the blanket. 

Raylan kissed him, but it seemed Boyd wasn't done talking. He said, "I can't imagine he'll get his job back, and I ain't entirely sure why he'd want to, now everyone knows he's a fag."

Raylan raised his hand to Boyd's chest and started unbuttoning his shirt. "I don't know, Boyd, maybe he wanted everyone to know," he murmured, "but I don't want to talk about this now."

Boyd gave him a sharp look and said, "Why the hell would he want that? Now, I can't rightly fault the man for his feelings." He paused as Raylan gave a low laugh and kissed his neck. "But," he went on, "you can't expect a school board to let you remain in charge of children when they know you're a deviant."

Raylan pulled back and stared at him. "What did you say?"

"All I'm saying is people fear what they don't understand, and he should have known that. He should have been more careful. You know how they found out? He had flowers delivered to his boyfriend at his job, and the girl at the flower place recognized his name 'cause she had him as a teacher. Flowers, Raylan, I ask you."

Raylan rolled his eyes, but moved a hand down between Boyd's legs. "I don't want no flowers, son. Only one thing I want right now." He kissed Boyd deeply as he rolled on top of him, bracing himself on his hands and knees and brushing up against his groin lightly in a way that he hoped was as maddening for Boyd as it was for him. Raylan was finished with talking. 

"I think maybe you're right, Raylan," Boyd said, his voice a little shaky now, Raylan was pleased to note. "I think he did want to get caught, but that's just crazy. He had to know what would happen."

Raylan made an exasperated sound and slid to the side, sitting up and glaring down at Boyd. "What is your problem? Would you rather not fool around today? Because that's all you had to say. No need to try to put me off it by talking about this shit. What's this got to do with us anyway? We ain't boyfriends. We ain't gonna be telling anyone about this."

Boyd gave a small smile that looked a little sad, and Raylan felt unaccountably guilty about what he'd said. But he hadn't said anything that wasn't true. 

"I never said it did have anything to do with us, Raylan," Boyd replied. "You're the one made that connection."

"It ain't that big a leap, Boyd." Raylan looked away and scratched at the back of his head. When he looked back at Boyd, he said, "You really think it's so crazy he maybe wanted people to find out? He was sending flowers, that probably means he's in love, right? People in love always want everyone to know about it. That's why kids make out in the stairwells at school. It's why people write fuckin' love songs."

"The flowers were for their tenth anniversary," Boyd said quietly. "Said so in the paper."

Raylan didn't know how to respond to that. He just looked back at Boyd, who reached for his hand and tugged at it. Raylan sighed and lowered himself down again, but he didn't feel too turned on anymore, at the moment. 

Boyd stretched out an arm so Raylan could rest on his shoulder and chest, and ran his fingers through Raylan's hair. "I don't know why I brought it up," he said, conciliatory now. "It was just on my mind."

"You don't really think it was his fault, do you?" Raylan asked. "Ain't no law against sending someone flowers. It's bullshit, what happened to that guy."

"Yeah, it's bullshit, Raylan. But it's also just the way things are. Maybe not forever, but for now."

Raylan closed his eyes, then curled his body into Boyd's side. He stroked the side of Boyd's face until he looked over. "I wasn't right to say it didn't have anything to do with you and me. It's not the same, but it's not entirely different. Is it?"

"Not entirely," Boyd answered, pressing closer so he could kiss Raylan's face. He slung his leg over Raylan's hip and pulled him in tight. "If you was my boyfriend, I'd probably want to tell people too." He opened Raylan's fly. "But I wouldn't."

"I wouldn't either," Raylan panted as Boyd reached into his pants and rubbed him over his shorts. "We'd keep it a secret."

"A secret," Boyd whispered, and moved down. Raylan pushed his jeans and underwear down, and Boyd wrapped his hand around his cock. Raylan let out a long breath and put a hand lightly on his head as he lowered it. He made a small sound, almost a laugh, as Boyd put his mouth on him. 

They already had a secret, and he had a hard time thinking what difference one more would make. He had a hard time thinking much of anything just then, as his hips strained upward of their own volition. He watched the sparkling beam of light that landed just to the side of where they lay, and he imagined they must look beautiful. 

Boyd's hand pressed hard as it rubbed up and down the top of his thigh, and Raylan's fingers tightened into a fist in his hair. He let out a string of quiet, desperate exclamations as he felt himself go, and Boyd sucked him harder, took him in deeper. He felt the head of his dick hit the back of Boyd's throat, and he jerked as he started to come. Boyd didn't pull away, he stayed with him until he was still. 

When Boyd came back up to lay beside him, Raylan looked at his face, almost contented, peaceful. He kissed him. Boyd took his hand and drew it between his legs. Raylan closed his eyes and kissed him again, then pushed his hand inside, pulled up on him, wanting more. 

He kissed him again and again, breathing harder all the time. He was ready to go again, with Boyd's grunts and moans sounding in his ears. He pushed Boyd's pants down over his hips and straddled him, looking down at him as he stroked his cock. 

Boyd's eyes widened slightly and an open-mouthed smile grew on his face when he saw the state Raylan was in. He reached for him, and Raylan bent down to kiss him some more. _Yes, beautiful,_ he thought. _Fuck anyone who thinks it ain't. Fuck...oh, fuck..._ Boyd was coming, gasping into his mouth, and Raylan leaned into Boyd's neck as he came again, somehow more intense this time, longer.

Boyd's hand came up to the back of his head, holding it where it was, buried in the hair behind his ear, as Raylan's body went limp on top of him. Raylan listened to Boyd breathing, and at first he could feel their hearts pounding against each other, and he felt so heavy and full. He fell asleep in the quiet of the barn, smelling hay and dust and Boyd. 

He woke when Boyd shifted out from under him, saying, "Wake up, Raylan. We'll be late."

He sat up slowly, rubbing at his face. His stomach was sticky with come, and Boyd was swiping at his own stomach with the corner of the blanket. Raylan took the opposite corner and did the same. 

"Next time we should bring some fuckin' napkins," he grumbled, still waking up. 

Boyd nodded and chuckled a little, then sat back down and opened the thermos. He sipped from the bottle rather than use the plastic cup, then handed it to Raylan. 

Raylan took a sip and sighed heavily. "The fuckin' mine, man. I wish we could go swimming."

Boyd shook his head. "Gotta get some money put away. I don't want to end up working for daddy, I need to get enough to strike out on my own."

Raylan raised his eyebrows at him. "You want to start your own enterprise in competition with Bo? Have you lost your mind, boy?"

"Not necessarily in competition. Preferably something that could end up being mutually beneficial. But all that remains to be seen, Raylan. All I know is I need to be my own man."

Raylan handed the thermos back and took a piece of the pie. He and Boyd hadn't talked much about this shit, about their plans or dreams for the future. Until very recently, their relationship had consisted of not much more than verbal sparring and heavy drinking. 

It was on one such evening about two months earlier, that they had, tentatively, begun to touch on some more honest, and far more dangerous topics. 

They'd been talking about a boy they'd both known, though not well, all through school. His name was Jimmy Lee McCray, a slight, sweet-faced, shy kid from a very poor family, often bullied and teased both for his ratty, cast-off clothes and his perceived femininity. 

They were about a quarter of the way into a fifth of Jim Beam when Raylan said, "You want to hear some crazy shit? My mama told me her cousin's daughter is gettin' married."

He paused to take a pull from the bottle, and Boyd said, "So?"

"So she's marryin' Jimmy Lee McCray. I heard Arlo talking about how she's knocked up." 

Boyd looked at him for a few seconds, expressionless, then shook his head as he took the bottle back. 

"Nothin'?" Raylan said. "You ain't surprised?"

Boyd shrugged. "Why, because everyone figured he was a fag? I ain't too surprised. What's he supposed to do, he wants to stay here?"

"Did you think he was...a fag?" Raylan's heart was pounding just a little at this point. It felt frightening to talk about this, even at the remove of talking about someone else. 

"I guess so," Boyd replied. "Still think he probably is. I think..." He sighed heavily and took a drink. "I hit him once, in junior high. Do you remember that?"

"No," Raylan said, very quietly. He wasn't sure when this discussion had become so serious, but he knew they were talking about real things now. "Why did you do that?"

Boyd grimaced. "I was in line next to him in the cafeteria. He made some joke, and I laughed. And then he- he turned towards me and gave me the biggest, nicest smile, 'cause you know, people weren't hardly ever friendly to him. And all I could think was, shit, now everyone's gonna think we're friends. And I liked the smile, you know, and for a second I thought he'd be an okay person to know. And that bothered me too."

Raylan didn't say a word, but he nodded his acknowledgement at Boyd. 

"So I grabbed his shirt and shoved him up against the wall, and then I hit him in the stomach and threw his tray on the floor." Boyd was blinking fast now, and breathing a little faster. "I can't think of anything I've done that I feel more ashamed of, Raylan. Can you understand that?"

Raylan could. He could understand all of it, each step of what had happened. He nodded and asked, "Did you ever apologize to him?"

Boyd gave an incredulous snort. "Crowders don't fuckin' apologize, son. You know that. I never bothered him again though. 'Course, he never tried to talk to me again after that."

"You really think he...I mean, you think he really likes guys?" 

"Well, I can't say for sure, obviously. Seems like it, don't he? And I mean, seems like the odds would dictate there'd be one or two in our class who do, don't it? They gotta come from somewhere."

"If you knew for sure...I mean, what do you think about that?" Raylan's voice was not at all steady anymore, and he willed himself to keep looking at Boyd.

Boyd looked back at him, straight into his eyes, and said, "I'd say, a man's desires are his own concern, and it ain't my place or no one else's to judge him for it. If God wants to, let him do that on his own, He don't need my help. I'd also say, He has to bear some responsibility, in my opinion, as the Creator. And I'd further say, Raylan, that for two grown people who want the same thing to do that thing together, I can't think how that does any harm."

"That's what I think too," Raylan said. They left it at that, that night, and moved on to other topics until they were too drunk to talk anymore. 

After that night, things felt different, as if something had eased between them, a barrier taken down. Men like them, men like the ones they knew, they didn't talk about such things. And if the subject did come up somehow, the only appropriate response was disgust and possibly anger. They'd both broken a rule with their honesty, and now they knew they could trust each other with at least that much. 

They seemed to inch closer to each other over the following weeks. They'd fall asleep leaning against each other, some nights. Sometimes, they wouldn't even drink, they'd just go driving around in the dark hills. 

One night, walking through the holler, shoulders brushing occasionally, Boyd took his hand. He didn't look over, just held Raylan's warm hand in his cool, dry one. Raylan let it lay there for a moment, limp, then took a breath and squeezed Boyd's hand, and they walked like that all the way back to where he'd parked the truck.

They didn't talk during the drive back to Boyd's house. Raylan pulled up short of the property, shut off the engine and the lights, and leaned over into Boyd's space. He put his hand on Boyd's shoulder and glanced up at his face quickly before looking back down. 

"Oh. Raylan," Boyd said, and only had to push forward a few inches to meet his lips. 

They kissed once, tentative and somewhat awkward. Raylan pulled back and looked at Boyd. He thought he should feel relieved, but he almost felt more scared now. He felt something else too. He felt a deep want, for things only half-formed in his mind. He wanted Boyd. 

He slid his hand around to the back of Boyd's neck and kissed him again, harder now and more sure. When their kiss broke the second time, they were both breathing heavy. 

"Goddamn," Boyd said, expelling a shaky laugh. 

Raylan laughed in response, not knowing what to say. His dick was pressing uncomfortably against his jeans, and one glance told him that Boyd was in a similar situation. 

"I guess I should probably go on in," Boyd said. 

"Want me to pull up to the house?" Raylan asked. It was about a half mile back from the road.

"No, I believe a little fresh air and time to compose myself is in order." He smiled ruefully at Raylan. "So I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Raylan nodded and hesitated. Boyd started to get out, but Raylan said, "Boyd. Next time-"

"Next time, we won't have to waste so much of the evening on bullshit." Boyd quirked a smile at him and hopped out of the truck. 

They hadn't wasted any more time, or held themselves back, after that. Whatever one of them wanted to do, they'd do. It felt like they might not ever get another chance. It was hard to see much beyond the end of each day.

Raylan drank the last of the coffee and screwed the top back on. He looked over at Boyd, who was brushing pie crumbs off his pants. He watched until Boyd looked up, questioning. Raylan smiled.

"I want you again," he said. Boyd's face split into a huge grin and he laughed out loud. 

"Ain't got no time, son. Though I do sorely regret that fact." He stood up and Raylan followed, so Boyd could pull the blanket from the floor. Raylan picked up the remains of their breakfast, and they went blinking into the sunlight. 

Boyd threw the rolled up blanket into the truck bed, then walked over to where Raylan was opening the passenger door. He leaned into him, holding him by the waist and kissing him. 

"I'm gonna be thinking about this all day, Raylan," he murmured. 

All Raylan could do was nod. He wanted to tell Boyd to get in the truck and drive them far away where nobody knew them. But he knew Boyd would say no, and then everything would be ruined. 

They used the barn fairly often, though they tried to mix it up with other places, in case someone living nearby noticed the regular presence of one or more trucks. Things between them stayed much the same over the next several months, and what changes there were, happened gradually. Mostly they simply continued to inch closer. 

The day after Christmas was very cold and overcast, and they met at the barn in the afternoon. When Raylan entered the place, he could only see Boyd's silhouette by the broken window, and the breath puffing out of his mouth. 

"Hey," he said, grinning and walking towards him. When he was close enough to see Boyd's features, he could see bruises and cuts, and his cheekbone was swollen terribly. "Jesus, Boyd," Raylan said, sucking a sharp hiss through his teeth, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Got in a fight," Boyd said. 

Raylan pushed some hair back from his forehead very gently, to reveal a nasty looking scrape. "Who with? Come on, what happened?"

Boyd huffed a sigh. "Nothing, really. I guess I decided I couldn't take a fucking joke, suddenly, and overreacted to some bullshit Johnny and some guys we used to hang with were saying."

"Who, like Randy and Stumpy and them assholes?"

Boyd nodded. "Stumpy's the one I actually fought with, which was stupid because he's fuckin' nuts. I did win, case you were wondering, but he got in a few good ones."

"Of course you did," Raylan said, smiling. He leaned in and kissed him carefully on his swollen mouth. "What did they say that got you so pissed off, anyway? Those boys are always talking shit. I'm surprised you can even hear it at this point."

Boyd looked away from him, out the window. It took him awhile to answer, but finally he said, "They don't get why I don't hang with them so much anymore. Now, they were just talking, Raylan, so don't-" He cut his words short, sighed, then said in a softer voice, "Johnny asked me why I was hanging around you so much, and I said the mine, you know, we got that in common now. And then, Stumpy, you know he don't know how to keep his mouth shut, he says, 'Sure Boyd, the mine. If you say so. But I got to wonder if that ain't the only hole you and him got in common.' So I smashed his face in."

Raylan closed his eyes and let his head drop lightly onto Boyd's shoulder. "I'm sorry, man," he said, his voice muffled by the thick jacket. "I didn't even think- Boyd, you can hang with your friends, you know. I never meant-"

"Shut up, Raylan," Boyd interrupted, softly but leaning down so he spoke directly into his ear. "Just shut up with the goddamn apology. You know as well as I do, that's bullshit. You think I wouldn't be passing my time with them, if that's what I wanted to do? Does that sound like me, son?"

"No," Raylan admitted, picking up his head to look at Boyd again.

Boyd put a hand to his face and stroked a thumb over his cheek. "You know how I feel about you. You do, don't you?" When Raylan nodded, Boyd said, "I don't know what I'm gonna do when you leave here, Raylan. I know you're gonna go eventually, and I ain't saying you shouldn't, but it's gonna be real hard for me."

Raylan's voice cracked as he answered, "For me, too."

"I know that," Boyd said. "I love you, Raylan."

Raylan let out a long shuddering sigh as he pulled Boyd in close and held him as he kissed his jaw and neck, anywhere he could find without injuries, then dropped to his knees and unzipped his fly. Boyd had taken a beating because of him, he figured the least he could do was make him feel as good as possible now. 

Boyd had never before said those words, that he loved him, but Raylan had known for a long time. He knew because he felt it too, because how could you not fall in love with someone who made you feel like that? Who made you feel beautiful, and _necessary_ , and who could sometimes make you feel so fucking amazing you thought you might bust out of your own skin. 

He thought maybe he could stay. If he could be with Boyd, if they could find a way to do that. He thought about that school teacher, and dismissed it almost immediately. They weren't like that. They wouldn't make such a foolish mistake. They could never live together, of course, not here, but-

His thought processes were interrupted by the sound of an engine roaring into the yard outside. He pulled away from Boyd quickly, standing up as Boyd stuffed his dick back into his jeans. He knew it hardly mattered; there was no other reason for them to be there, and anyway, whoever was coming probably already knew what they would find. 

They looked at each other as the door opened and Stumpy, Johnny Crowder, and a taller guy that Raylan thought might be Stumpy's brother came through it. 

Raylan took one look at Stumpy's face and saw that Boyd hadn't been lying about winning that fight. He also seemed to be holding himself carefully, like he might be nursing a broken rib or two. Raylan had seen Boyd fight before. He was fucking vicious. He smiled grimly.

Stumpy looked over at Johnny and said, "See? What'd I fuckin' say? Fuckin' cocksuckers, come here to suck each other's cocks."

Johnny was glowering, but not specifically at anyone. He directed it at Stumpy and said, "Alls I see is them standing there talking. No one's got their cock out."

"The fuck you talkin' about, Johnny?" Stumpy wailed. "Why else they comin' up here? They wanted to _talk_ , they coulda done that anywheres. Only reason people come here is for fuckin' or drinkin' or smokin' weed. I don't see no booze and I don't smell no weed. I see them two faggots standing real goddamn close to each other. That's what I see."

Johnny aimed his glare at the two of them, and Raylan realized belatedly that they really were standing very close together. He'd been so anxious to get his mouth off Boyd's dick that he hadn't realized. 

"What you got to say for yourself, Boyd?" Johnny asked. 

"I ain't got nothing to say for myself, Cousin Johnny, seein' as how me and Raylan ain't doing nothing but discussing some business. I do think you might ask our sawed off little friend there why he's so anxious to talk about men screwing each other. I certainly can't be held responsible for his fantasies about me."

Stumpy charged him then, as Raylan knew he would, and as Boyd surely did as well. He fended him off easily, side-stepping and running an elbow into the boy's fractured ribs. He fell to the floor, groaning. Unfortunately, Stumpy's much larger brother took up the fight, and Raylan wasn't sure how much Boyd could take after his beating earlier. 

He pulled the tall man off of Boyd, earning himself a knee in the gut and a cut to his chin, while Johnny pulled Boyd away and held him off. Raylan was on the ground, his breath still not fully recovered from the blow to his stomach, and the man had hit him twice by the time Boyd managed to break away from Johnny and barrel into them, knocking the guy off and tackling him. 

Stumpy got back in it then, trying to pry Boyd off his maybe-brother. Raylan got up wiping the blood from his nose, and pushed him back. Boyd had the other guy well in hand, and Stumpy was really in no shape to put up much of a fight. 

"Boyd, shit, you're gonna kill him!" Stumpy yelled. Raylan looked at Boyd, and his face was stony with rage. He was hitting the guy over and over, and it really did look like he could kill him. 

Raylan went over and put a hand on his shoulder. Boyd jerked around like he was going to hit whoever had touched him, but when he saw it was Raylan, his face fell.

"It's enough, Boyd," Raylan said. "You won, man."

Boyd looked back down at the guy, then slowly got up off him. He looked at Johnny and said, "You shoulda stopped them, cousin. They never should've come here. That asshole should've learned his lesson about talking shit about me earlier today, but his dumb hillbilly ass comes here talking more of the same, and you let him. You fix this, asshole. You fix it, or we're done. I'll do whatever I have to so you get shut out forever. You know what's Bo's is gonna be mine some day. You think about that."

Johnny stared at him and swallowed. Then he said, "Stumpy, scrape your damn brother off the floor and let's go."

Raylan sat down against the wall when they were gone. He was so tired, his head and his face hurt like hell, and everything was so fucked up. He knew this meant the end of anything he'd had with Boyd. 

Boyd walked over and sat beside him. He pulled a bandanna from his jacket pocket and put his hand to Raylan's cheek. "Your nose is bleeding," he said, dabbing all around it, then handing Raylan the cloth.

Raylan took his hand, gingerly, and said, "So are your knuckles." He laid Boyd's hand on his leg, took a deep breath, and said, "Boyd, let's just go. We can go together. We don't have to stay here. We can go somewhere else where it ain't that bad for...for people like us."

"What kind of people are we, Raylan? We've never said what we are."

"I don't know just yet, honestly. But if I can want you, if I can... _love_ you, then I must be some kind of different. You must be too. So we don't belong in this place. We should go. Please. Please go with me."

Boyd shook his head. "I can't, Raylan. I can't. I know you need to, you have to. I want you to. I'm glad you asked me, but please don't do it again."

"But why? Why do you want to be here?"

"If I go somewhere else, I'm just some no account, uneducated shitkicker from dirt poor Appalachia. Here, I got a name. I got a legacy. I got something bigger than myself, Raylan."

Raylan closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "But you won't have me no more," he husked out, his voice as weak as the rest of him felt.

"I know, and please understand how painful that is for me. Please don't think I don't...wish it could be different." Boyd's hands, with their scraped and bruised knuckles, were on his neck. He leaned forward to kiss Raylan gently.

"But it could be different. You're making this choice." He pushed Boyd back, carefully, not wanting to hurt him further. He stood up. "I gotta go."

"Raylan, wait-" Boyd said, but he was already at the door and didn't turn around. 

Raylan left three weeks later. He called Boyd to say goodbye, but he wasn't home. He doubted Bowman would actually give him the message.

 

When Raylan came back, twenty years later with a badge and a stupid hat, neither acknowledged what had once been between them. Boyd couldn't resist making the occasional vague allusion. And he couldn't stop himself from smiling at Raylan like he did, but that wasn't to piss him off. It's just what his face did around Raylan sometimes. He knew Raylan thought it was malicious, though. 

Things had passed between them since Raylan had returned - cruelties, deceptions, even the occasional bit of mutually beneficial assistance - but never honesty. Not once. 

Boyd walked into the darkened bar, above which Raylan currently resided. It was early yet, Raylan would still be working, and he certainly hadn't made an appointment to meet him. If he'd thought Raylan would accept one, he might have done so.

He ordered a double and drank it slowly. His fingers itched for a cigarette, though he hadn't smoked in many years. He finished his drink and glanced at his watch. After five now, so maybe Raylan would be coming soon. He ordered another drink.

It was close to six and Boyd was near the end of his third drink when Raylan came walking in the door. He passed the bar, paused, and turned around. Boyd saw him heave a sigh and walk back over to where he was sitting. He allowed himself a small smile, because Raylan was behaving as if someone was forcing him to come talk. 

Raylan slid onto the barstool next to him. "Boyd," he said, as sardonically as a name can possibly be said. "To what do I owe the honor?"

The bartender came up and Raylan raised two fingers. He nodded and brought Raylan a double of something. When he left, Boyd replied, "Honesty, Raylan. It's time."

Raylan grimaced and downed about half his drink. "It ain't time, Boyd, it's too late. I ain't interested."

"Raylan, I am a man alone. I no longer have a single soul to turn to. Ava's in prison, Johnny betrayed me, Colt is dead."

"Mm," Raylan murmured. "Devil too. It's very sad, but I can't see how it's my problem. You and me? We ain't friends, we ain't buddies. We're nothing to each other. I don't want to hear about your self-inflicted problems."

Raylan finished his drink, and Boyd expected him to get up and walk away. Instead, he rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand, then signaled to the bartender for another. When he came over, Boyd held up his own glass for a refill. 

"How many is that?" Raylan asked.

"This makes four. But don't worry, I been drinking so much lately, my tolerance is at an all-time high. I barely feel it."

Raylan looked at him for a long moment, his face neutral but like it was trying to decide what expression to use. Eventually, he just turned away, back to his drink. 

"Anyway, Raylan, I'm not here to talk about my problems, or yours. I just want to talk. I want to say real things to you and not pretend. I want us to acknowledge what happened, how things were. There was a time when we were honest with each other, more so than I have ever been with anyone. We risked a lot back then. We ain't really risking anything now, by talking about it. Maybe a little bit of pride, I don't know. Maybe you're embarrassed by it now." Boyd shrugged. "I ain't. Not to you, anyhow."

Raylan shook his head minutely. "That ain't it," he muttered. He looked hard at Boyd now. "Do you know what it did to me to see you the way I did that day? That first day? To see that shit on your arm, and on your wall, and hear it come outta your mouth?"

"So you can't talk about it because you hate the way I turned out."

"I can't even allow myself to think about it, Boyd. I can't think of you like that. I'd never be able to do my fucking job, do you understand?"

Boyd saw Raylan glance up and notice the bartender pretending not to listen. He pulled bills out and threw them on the bar, then downed the rest of his drink. He raised his eyebrows at Boyd and said, "Well? If we're talking, let's go finish the conversation. I ain't doing it here."

Boyd's mouth fell open for a second, then he pulled out his own wallet and paid. He started to reach for his drink, which was still half full, but Raylan pushed it out of his reach.

"Don't finish that. You ain't stayin' over. Come on."

Boyd smiled at him and followed him out of the bar and up the stairs. There was a small table inside the door of the apartment where Raylan threw his keys and set down his hat. 

Raylan continued through to the living room, but Boyd paused to pick up the hat. It was a good one, obviously expensive, but for all that, no less absurd for a man of Raylan's background. It did suit him, Boyd supposed, but he preferred him bare-headed, his hair in no particular style as it always had been when they were young. Boyd was pretty sure he hadn't gotten it cut since he'd been back. He set it down and walked along the hall. 

Raylan was on the sofa with a beer, and there was a glass of water on the other end of the coffee table. "So," he said, "you wanted to talk, let's talk." 

Boyd sat down. "I've wanted to tell you, for so long, how much I regretted things being cut short the way they were. And that I wasn't able to say goodbye to you. We didn't do it right. We fucked it up."

Raylan snorted. "Well, of course we did. We were nineteen years old, confused, and scared. What the hell else could we have done?" 

"I wasn't confused, Raylan. I knew how I felt."

Raylan shook his head. "That ain't what I meant. I wasn't confused about...not about you. About what I should do. How to live. What I wanted. I was so torn up, Boyd. For a little while, I was thinking I..." He paused and took a sip of beer, then started again. "Have you ever wondered if you made the right choice?"

"So many times," Boyd answered softly. "All the time, after you first left, because I missed you desperately. I ached for you."

Raylan looked away, uncomfortable. Boyd understood, but honesty was what he was looking for, what he'd promised. 

"Then later," Boyd continued, "it ebbed. I had other things on my mind. But every now and then, it would just come up, unasked for, and I'd think of you that day, begging me to come with you. And I'd feel such a sharp regret, like a knife in me. When you came home, Raylan, seeing you felt like that."

Raylan nodded and got up suddenly, carrying his empty bottle to the kitchen and returning with two fresh ones. He handed one to Boyd and sat down. 

"After I left," Raylan said, "I kept thinking of excuses why I should go back. Like, I shouldn't have left my mama there alone with Arlo, or, I wasn't smart enough to handle college. As if my real reason, the only thing that was really drawing me back there, wasn't good enough. Wasn't a valid reason."

"You stayed away though," Boyd said. "What about you? You ever regret leaving?"

"No, not really. I missed you, but I never doubted it was the right decision. And anyways...it never really felt like a real option to me, since you never asked me to stay. You told me to go. I figured, you thought having me around would fuck your other shit up."

Boyd gave him a look like might be an idiot and said, "Raylan, I loved you. I wasn't about to do that to you. If I ever once thought you could be happy staying, I would've begged you harder than you ever begged me come away. I would've worked it out somehow. I would've taken that risk for you. I loved you so much."

"Shit," Raylan said thickly, turning his head away. Boyd looked down and took a couple deep breaths. After while, Raylan turned around with a small, wry smile and said, "You know, it's probably for the best. At some point, I'm sure I would have given in to the urge to send you flowers at the bar. And then the jig would have been up."

Boyd let out a slightly watery laugh. "It was that real, how I felt about you. Like that, you know? It was."

"I know, Boyd. I know how it was, I was there." He tilted his head and said, "Hey, if you thought staying was such a bad idea for me, why'd you tell me I shoulda been an outlaw?"

Boyd grinned and said, "Oh, I was just screwing with you. You said yourself, you'd be dead or in jail by now. You need rules to keep yourself in check. I knew that, even back then."

"You're the one who ended up messing everything up, though, getting so pissed at whatshisname. And then going psycho on his brother."

Boyd nodded and drank some beer. "It's hard to explain why I got so mad at Stumpy. What he said gave me this fearful feeling, like maybe he really knew something. But then, that fear is what made me so angry. I was so pissed that I should have to feel afraid about something that, under other circumstances, I would have been so happy about. I was so pissed that...the way I felt about you, which was full of so much that was good, was something that could get me beaten or killed. And you. It was just so fucking unfair, Raylan. So unjust. God made us capable of those feelings. That should be looked on as a gift, in my opinion, not something shameful."

"I get it," Raylan replied.

"But I only beat the shit out of Stumpy's brother because he hurt you."

Raylan looked amused. "You'd seen me fight plenty of times. You never went full-on knight in shining armor before."

"That was before I loved you," Boyd explained patiently.

"Things certainly have changed," Raylan said. "We ain't doing much protecting each other these days."

"No," Boyd agreed.

"But I'm gonna make an exception to that tonight. You can stay on the couch, okay? I don't think you should drive. I'll get you a blanket."

Boyd smiled at him. "Shoulda let me finish my drink that I paid for, in that case."

"Christ, Boyd," Raylan said, rolling his eyes as he got up to get a blanket. "There's a bottle in the kitchen, go to town on it if you want. Just don't puke on my damn floor."

Raylan disappeared into what must have been his bedroom, and came out with a worn quilt. He handed it to Boyd, but didn't let go right away. Boyd pulled on it, and Raylan let himself be pulled along with it. 

Boyd looked into his eyes, and they were full of honesty, exactly what he'd thought he really wanted from Raylan. But all it did was drive that knife in harder, twisting it. He knew what Raylan wanted, or thought he wanted, and Boyd found himself unable to resist that. 

"Come here," Boyd said, and Raylan did. Raylan kissed him like he'd last done it yesterday. Something leapt up in Boyd's throat, and he dropped the blanket in favor of touching Raylan's face. Raylan held him by the waist, then gently pushed him back as the kiss ended. 

"Listen Boyd." Raylan wasn't looking at his face anymore. He picked up the abandoned blanket and draped it over the back of the couch. "I'm going to bed. I got work in the morning, so you'll have to be out of here when I am, which is around 8. I would like to warn you now. If there was any part of you considering venturing into my bed at some point in the night - perhaps if you get into that bottle - and you're looking for me to be the check on that, you're running a real risk. I think that it would be a very bad idea. I believe we would both regret it. But I ain't in a place where I feel confident I'd say no. So just don't, Boyd. If you were thinking about it."

Boyd stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "Well if I wasn't thinking about it before, I certainly am now."

"You weren't, before?"

"Oh no, I was," Boyd said, and they both laughed. "It would be good, Raylan. You know it would."

Raylan closed his eyes and nodded. "Tonight, it would be good. Tomorrow, it would be shitty. Because we live in the real world, Boyd."

Boyd moved closer, speaking softly. "Tomorrow's gonna be shitty either way. Why not let tonight be good? It'll be so good. We can forget for a little while."

"I can't pretend to be who I was back then," Raylan said, "nor that you are. If we do this, it's as ourselves, now."

"I can live with that," Boyd replied, a smile growing on his face. 

Raylan sighed. "I'm know I'm gonna regret this," he muttered quietly, then in a normal voice he said, "Grab the blanket, it's the one from my bed."

"You were gonna give me your only blanket? I knew you still cared."

"It's not my only blanket, it's just the one I grabbed," Raylan grumbled.

"It smells like you," Boyd said. "I would've felt like I was sleeping with you anyway."

"If you'd prefer the blanket, the option is still open."

Boyd walked up close as entered the bedroom. "I don't think so, Raylan. If you want to stop this, you stop it. I won't do that. I want you. I want to see you naked after all these years. I want see if you taste the same. I bet you do."

Raylan grabbed at his hips and hooked his fingers in the belt loops. "Alright," he breathed. "We have one night. What do you feel like doing?"

Boyd kissed him hard and pushed him back toward the bed. "Clothes, take your clothes off," he said urgently, unbuttoning his own shirt. 

Raylan sat down on the bed to pull his boots off, then removed his shirt. Boyd's eyes ran over the scars on his side, and examined all the other changes time had brought to Raylan's body. On the whole, it had been kind. 

Boyd hesitated before letting the shirt slip from his own back, and he glanced up to see Raylan watching him as he slid the jeans and boxers down his legs. 

"Go on, Boyd. Ain't like I don't know what's there."

Boyd took the shirt off, exposing the ink, and the scar. He pulled off his pants too, and stood naked in front of Raylan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"You're the only person I've ever allowed myself to be this exposed for, Raylan. No one else has seen me the way you have."

Raylan looked like he was considering this, and he said, "Same here, but I don't think that's such a good thing, Boyd. I'm pretty sure that's what fucked up my marriage, and any other attempts at relationships I have made over the years."

Boyd walked forward and reached out to run his hands lightly over Raylan's arms. "Thinking back," he said quietly, "I don't even know how we managed it."

"Too stupid to feel the appropriate fear, I imagine," Raylan said. "It's better now, you know, for kids."

"Here, maybe. In a lot of places. Harlan...not so much. It's still a danger there. Bad shit happens."

Raylan frowned up at him. "Yeah, I've heard. I do pay attention, you know. So you never...with anyone else?"

Boyd pushed him back gently, and Raylan slid to the head of the bed as Boyd crawled up over him. "Nope," he whispered, smiling slightly. "Hope I remember how. Have you?"

"Yeah, but it's been awhile," Raylan said. "It's okay, we didn't know what the fuck we were doing back then, and it was still..."

"What?" Boyd kissed him softly, rubbing his chest.

"Beautiful," Raylan answered. "It was beautiful."

It was, but of course, they'd been in love, and so very young. Looking at Raylan now, Boyd thought he could probably access those emotions again - they had never really gone away, they'd just gone quiet - but he thought it might be extremely foolish to try. 

Boyd reached between them for Raylan's cock and started stroking it lightly. "You remember the first time?" he asked.

"When you held my hand?" 

"No," Boyd said, pulling up harder and prompting a moan. "The first real time. The first time we touched each other's cocks."

"Sure," Raylan replied, "In my truck. You sat on my lap just like this, as I recall. We made out for so long, I thought my dick was gonna wear a hole through my jeans."

Boyd grinned. "When we finally got up the nerve to take 'em out, I thought I might pass out from relief."

"And then you did just like you're doing now," Raylan continued. "And I did too, like this." He wrapped his long fingers around Boyd and squeezed, rubbing his thumb up the rigid shaft.

Boyd's eyes drifted shut and he licked his lips. "I'd never felt anything like it. All that built-up tension from all those months I'd been wanting you. All the terror I felt about what it meant, what I might be, and about getting caught. And then your hand on me...that you wanted to touch me..."

"I wanted to do everything with you. I didn't even know what all the things were, I just knew I wanted them."

"Put your mouth on me, Raylan," Boyd said, "please."

Raylan smiled and sat up straighter, pushing Boyd back a bit. "Alright. Lie down, then."

Boyd crawled off of Raylan and laid next to where he was sitting. Raylan slid down and kissed him again, then leaned across his body and bent to take him in. 

Boyd propped himself on his elbows so he could watch. He was half-afraid that if he closed his eyes through this, it would feel like a dream, and he didn't want that. He could see the back of Raylan's head and neck from this angle, and he could touch his shoulder blade. Raylan looked so strong now, with his clothes off. Dressed, it was obvious he was fit, but hard to tell how well-built he'd become. 

Raylan's mouth was warm and not unfamiliar, even after all this time. It was easy to remember everything, if he let himself. It was easy to feel everything, and he was not so sure he even had a choice in that. 

This felt so good, so right, like it always had. It had been so right between them before that it had chased away their fear and discomfort, and he wondered if there was any way it could happen that way again. He brushed that thought away. There was too much, now. Nothing could fix all the shit they'd done to each other, and to themselves. Too late for that. 

Raylan pulled off, pumping him hard and looking around to meet his eyes. "You want me to keep going, or you want something else?"

Boyd blinked as he realized Raylan was talking about fucking. They'd only tried it one time, back then, and it had been sort of a disaster. After that they'd decided it wasn't all that important, and went back to doing what they'd already figured out. Truck beds and barn floors weren't especially conducive to experimentation. Raylan must have learned stuff later on. 

"No," Boyd decided, "this is so good, keep going."

Raylan climbed around between his legs and renewed his efforts, reaching up with one hand to rub at his nipple. Boyd groaned and bucked up his hips. He pulled Raylan's hand up to his mouth and rubbed the pad of his thumb across his lips, then sucked it in gently. Raylan made a high-pitched, desperate sound, but kept working at him with his mouth. 

Boyd ran his tongue around Raylan's thumb, and thought about what he was going to do to Raylan next, and he felt everything tighten up. He pulled the thumb from his mouth and said, "Oh shit, I'm gonna come. Can't stop, oh god Raylan-" 

Raylan grabbed his hips and pulled him up and in, all the way in, as his orgasm hit. He felt it not only in his dick, but in all his muscles, like they were releasing some enormous tension into Raylan's mouth, and he couldn't recall ever before hearing himself make the sound that came out of him at that moment.

Raylan came up, panting and grinning, to flop down beside him. "I'd like to take credit for all that, but I guess you're a little deprived these days."

Boyd rolled over and brushed the side of his face. "It's mostly you," he said. 

A faint line, not quite a frown, appeared between Raylan's eyes. "Boyd..."

"Yes, Raylan?" He stroked his fingers through Raylan's hair. 

"You gonna suck my dick, or what?"

Boyd smiled and kissed the side of his mouth. "I will, of course, but I ain't gonna pretend I don't feel nothing, Raylan. And I ain't buying it from you for a second either."

Raylan sighed. "Because we're bein' honest tonight, huh?"

"That's right."

"Okay," Raylan said. "Honestly...I'm glad you came over. And I honestly need you to get to it, son, like _now._ "

Boyd huffed a laugh and started to move down, but Raylan caught him under his arms. "Wait," he said. 

Boyd looked at him quizzically. "Didn't you just tell me to get on with it?"

Raylan looked at him for what seemed a long time, several seconds, then rolled him over onto his back, kissing him several times. He knelt up, straddled Boyd's chest, and said, "This okay?"

Boyd shot him an amused smirk and said, "Remember our rule? It's always yes, Raylan."

"We never made that rule. That's just how it was. You can say no."

Boyd just shrugged, and Raylan shook his head very slightly, then braced himself on the headboard. Boyd let his mouth fall open as Raylan pushed himself forward. Raylan's hand fell to his cheek, then slid around to cradle the back of his head as he fucked Boyd's face. Boyd would have smiled if he could; it was a strange combination of tenderness and brutality, and seemed like the perfect thing for them to be doing. 

After a time he heard Raylan's breathing grow ragged, though he was otherwise silent. That hadn't changed, then. Raylan's fingers fisted tightly in his hair, and he pulled out suddenly, his come shooting out in spurts onto Boyd's chest and neck, and a little bit of his jaw. Raylan stared down at him, mouth hanging open and breathing hard. 

Boyd grinned and reached up to wipe his face. "Why thank you, Raylan, that was lovely. I don't suppose you could fetch a washcloth."

Raylan nodded, still not speaking, and went into the bathroom. He brought back a damp rag, sat beside Boyd, and proceeded to wipe him down. "I didn't ask about that," he said as he finished up. 

"Raylan, I don't care." Boyd pulled the rag from his hand and dropped it on the floor by the bed. He moved over to make room, but Raylan stayed seated where he was. "What?" Boyd sighed. 

"I was thinking I might take the couch," Raylan replied.

"Don't do that," Boyd said, taking him by the wrist. "It's still tonight, Raylan." He tugged at him. "Besides, I want to talk some more."

"I don't know what else there is to talk about. I already said more than I ever wanted to, and heard more than I should have." Raylan looked worried, but at least he was looking at him now. 

"Well then, there ain't anything more to worry about, is there? We already said all the hard parts. We already admitted that we still...that this is still between us."

"It's sex, Boyd. It doesn't have to be a big deal."

Boyd thought he'd never heard such an unconvincing sentence in his life, but he didn't say that. Instead, he said, "And you're afraid that sleeping next to me tonight is somehow gonna change that?"

Raylan just looked at him, and Boyd knew he'd just wanted to be persuaded. He smiled and pulled harder on his arm. "Turn the light out and lie down, Raylan. Come on, it won't change anything hasn't already changed. Maybe nothing has, anyway. I don't know, just come here. Don't keep this from me, or yourself. What's the point of that?"

Raylan switched the light off and laid down, facing away from Boyd. Boyd wrapped his arm around him and pulled him in close. 

"Hey," Boyd said, "you remember the time we broke into the Bennetts' drying barn?"

Raylan's body shook slightly with a silent chuckle. "Yeah. That was probably the dumbest fuckin' thing we ever did. 'Til tonight, anyway."

"I wouldn't argue with that assessment," Boyd said, "but do you remember how that night turned out?"

Raylan was quiet for a bit, and when he spoke, his voice sounded far away. "We got a couple buds and took 'em down to the swimming hole. Got good and baked, and then we got nekked and went in. It was so hot that night, but the water was cold." He paused, and Boyd pressed his lips against his shoulder blade. "That was a real good night," Raylan finished quietly. He was leaving a lot unsaid, but Boyd knew that wasn't because he didn't remember.

"That it was, Raylan. And it was your idea."

"What?" Raylan shifted and craned his head around at that. "You're crazy. I clearly recall saying what a terrible idea it was. Though, I can't say I was sorry to be proven wrong on that one."

"Raylan," Boyd laughed, "the thought of breaking in there had not even occurred to me. All I said was, I wished we had money for some weed. And you said, 'I definitely ain't saying we should do this, but I know where the Bennetts dry their weed.' The idea was yours. All you wanted was for me to talk you into it."

"That ain't...that's not how I remember it."

"Oh no? Okay. How do you suppose you'll remember tonight, then?"

Raylan turned himself around then and pushed himself up onto his elbow. Boyd laid back on the pillow, looking up at him.

"Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He was glaring down, and all Boyd wanted to do was laugh and give him a kiss. "Nothing, Raylan. Come here." He smiled. "I want you again."

"You do not," Raylan laughed. 

"I want something," Boyd answered, pulling Raylan's head down. 

Raylan resisted, but only for half a second before lowering his lips to Boyd's. He gave him a truly beautiful kiss, but when it ended he said, "I really do need to sleep." 

"Alright." He started to roll over, but was surprised by Raylan drawing him in and making room for him to settle in against his shoulder. 

"Just for tonight," Raylan mumbled. "I definitely don't think we should do this again."

Boyd smiled and settled an arm across his chest. "Is that so?

"It's probably a real bad idea," Raylan said. "I'd lose my job if it came out. You, on the other hand..."

"I'd lose more than that," Boyd said. "No one's gonna find out, Raylan, don't worry. We been keeping each other's secrets this long, we ain't gonna stop now."

Raylan was quiet after that, but Boyd could feel his unease. Secrets were Boyd's stock and trade. Raylan certainly knew how to keep them - you don't grow up in Harlan with Arlo Givens for a father and not learn that skill - but he'd never been comfortable with them. 

Boyd had once done a selfless thing for a boy he'd loved deeply. He'd let Raylan go, let him be without any great regrets about leaving, and now they might be at another such crossroads. 

He wasn't sure about the nature of his feelings for Raylan; he didn't know how many were just memories of old emotions. Raylan wasn't the same boy he'd been, and neither was Boyd, so why should he expect it to be the same between them? And yet, when they let themselves be exposed to each other, it felt the same, as if the lives they'd lived had done nothing but build up layers of shit around their true, beautiful selves, like pearls in reverse.

Boyd didn't want to do the selfless thing now. He wanted this again, as many times as he could get it, even if it ruined both of them. 

"I don't know, Boyd." Raylan's voice, more awake than he'd expected, startled him out of his thoughts. "I ain't playing games now. I just don't know."

"Alright." Somehow, Raylan's honesty here worried him more than anything else that had happened that night. "Maybe we'll talk about it another time"

"Yeah, maybe. Good night, then."

Boyd closed his eyes and tried not to think about the morning.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan learns to ignore the things he needs to ignore, but this might end up costing him more than he'd imagined.

For the third time in less than two weeks, Raylan woke up out of the same dream. Him and Boyd down at the swimming hole, high, naked, bursting with amazement at what they were feeling. Boyd's joyous, clear laughter and his own silent wonder. Stars everywhere. Cold water and warm skin. Being so young and knowing it, truly believing it for once. The dream was all images, flashes, sensations. 

Each time he roused from it, he wished he could go back into it. He couldn't remember another time when he'd experienced anything like that night. He knew there was no way he ever would again, not at this late date. 

The night he and Boyd had spent together at his apartment - which had already taken on the aspect of a dream itself, being so far removed from the reality of his life - had felt nothing like that. It had been burdened by memory and regret, and the knowledge that any connection they might have felt was irrelevant - even meaningless - in the context of their actual lives. 

They hadn't spoken the morning after. Raylan had woken early and gone to take a shower. Boyd had been gone when he came back out, which had been a relief, but now Raylan was feeling uneasy about it. He had no idea what would happen when he had to see Boyd again. And he had no doubt that day would come, probably sooner rather than later.

Raylan had been putting off doing work on his father's house for some time, after an initial flurry of activity. It wasn't just that he didn't like being there, he also felt weird about selling the place. Everything about the situation was unpleasant, so he'd just been avoiding it, but it had to get done. 

After work on Friday, Raylan bought paint and brushes at the hardware store and headed down to Harlan. He spent the evening clearing out furniture and getting drunk, then collapsed on the living room couch at around midnight.

He woke up disoriented and hung over, but made coffee and started painting. He worked straight through until around noon, then decided that what he really needed to get him through was an ice cream cone - maybe two - so he dropped his brush in the slop sink and drove to the Dairy Queen. 

This place, among many others in Harlan, always made him think of Boyd. When Boyd had mentioned that he had plans to open one, back when things were going well and he thought he was going to be living the suburban dream with Ava, Raylan had felt a brief but disconcerting surge of affection for him in that moment. 

He and Boyd would stop there sometimes, drunk and full of themselves and their secret. Boyd would flirt with Ginny, who they both knew from school, and she'd give them free cones sometimes if the manager wasn't around. 

Raylan was thinking about that very thing as he walked up to the outdoor counter, which made it all the more surreal when he saw Boyd Crowder walking out of the restaurant with his own plain vanilla cone in his hand. He stared at him for a moment, feeling like he had possibly stepped through a time portal or some such thing. But he knew that wasn’t right, because he could see the jailhouse tats on the hand Boyd was holding his ice cream with, and his hair was sticking up instead of long and stringy, thank the good lord. That was one change he’d welcomed unequivocally.

Boyd walked up almost cautiously, as if consciously holding himself away. "Raylan," he said by way of a greeting, "What are you doing down here?"

"Don't worry, I ain't here to nose into whatever dubious business you're involved in these days. I came down to work on the house, get it in shape to sell."

"I see," he replied, nodding. "That seems mighty optimistic of you. Ain't much of a real estate boom in Harlan these days."

"Well, God knows I don't want it, so I might as well try." 

Raylan realized he was being an asshole, which was possibly unfair. Being around Boyd was unsettling, and he was also still a little hung over, and for some reason he couldn't stop looking at how ice cream was melting down the back of Boyd's fingers in a little rivulet. Though, that was better than watching him lick it off, which he then proceeded to do. 

"You here until tomorrow, then?" Boyd asked.

"Yeah, I'm trying to get the second floor painted. I should get back to it."

"Alright." Boyd smiled at him then, but Raylan couldn't return it. "See you around."

"Yeah, okay," Raylan said. He got his own ice cream and paid the girl as Boyd waved and walked to the parking lot.

He bought food and beer, then painted for the rest of the afternoon, stopping briefly to make himself a sandwich for dinner. He drank the six-pack he'd picked up, and kept painting until well after dark. He didn't stop until he heard a knock at the kitchen door.

Raylan had no doubts as to who it was. No one else knew he was here, or would want to see him. As he walked down to answer it, he realized he'd been probably been waiting for him. 

Boyd had already entered the kitchen by the time he got downstairs. He was leaning on the counter and looking at Raylan with an expression he hadn't seen in quite awhile. It was how he used to look sometimes when they were young, before they were even together. It was hesitant, but nakedly hopeful, and Raylan couldn't make himself look away. 

Neither of them said a word as Raylan walked up close and reached out for him. They kissed, and Boyd tasted sweet, like bourbon and possibly ice cream, though that didn't really make sense. He pulled Boyd through the house to the mattress he'd set up in the den, stopping to kiss him again every few feet. He felt drunk, even a little crazy, but what he definitely did not feel was any desire to stop what was happening. 

They stripped down quickly, and fell to the mattress, wrapping themselves together and running their hands over one another. It was old, this thing between them, and it had felt that way the time before. Now, it felt strangely new, almost alarming, like the very first time, as if this were the start of something big. It wasn't, couldn't possibly be, but Raylan couldn't shake the thought. 

Raylan held Boyd's cock in his hand and licked him from his collarbone to his ear. Boyd drew in a sharp breath, then laughed and kissed him hard. Raylan could only stare at him, panting, as he stroked him slowly. Boyd's eyes drifted shut and his head went back into the pillow, and Raylan was reminded of how much he used to love Boyd's neck. It was somehow elegant and strong at the same time, almost perfect. He let his lips brush against it, feeling the muscles flexing and the blood pumping beneath the surface. 

Boyd's hand found Raylan and moved in time with his slow rhythm. They lay on their sides, ankles entwined, kissing languidly. Raylan had no idea how much time passed while they did this, but it seemed like a lot, and finally Boyd whispered, "Now." Raylan kept the same pace, and he felt Boyd tighten up on him as he came. He let himself go then, too, although he could have lasted longer. Boyd pressed a kiss to his temple just at the moment his orgasm rushed up through him. 

They held on for a moment after they finished, then let go, and lay side by side, staring at the ceiling. 

"Well," Raylan started, then had no idea what to say.

"Well," Boyd answered, nodding as if agreeing to something. 

Raylan wanted to ask Boyd what they were doing, what the fuck was happening here. He thought Boyd might have an answer for him, but he didn't know what he wanted it to be. He found himself reaching for Boyd's hand, running his thumb across the back of it. 

"Raylan, you should know, I told Ava." 

Raylan dropped his hand and propped himself up on his elbow to stare at him. "You did what, now? Why on earth-"

"I can't keep a thing like that from her," Boyd replied calmly, "It wouldn't be fair."

"You think it's fair to put that on her while she's inside? Although, I can't help but feel shamefully relieved that she is, at this moment, so she can't come after me with her damn shotgun."

Boyd laughed at that, and said, "Look Raylan, I think she's gonna be alright with it. She ain't thrilled or nothing, but she understands."

"Understands what?" Raylan could feel himself getting angry, but he wasn't sure exactly what it was he was mad about. "Your _needs_?" he asked. "You make her feel guilty about you not gettin' your balls drained 'cause she's locked up?"

"Don't be an asshole. What do you think, I came to see you because I was hard up? Like I couldn't get my dick sucked by some whore if I needed it so bad? It ain't anything so vulgar as all that, which I assumed you understood."

Raylan didn't answer for a long time. It felt dangerous for Ava to know, and he also felt guilty about what she must be feeling now. But if he was being honest, what was really bothering him was a sense of betrayal by Boyd. This had always been a secret. It had been _their_ secret. They had always guarded it for each other, regardless of what else had happened. He didn't like Ava being let in on it. There was really no other word for it than jealousy, which was just terrible, not to mention incredibly stupid. 

He laid back down and gave a hard sigh, annoyed with himself and still sort of pissed at Boyd. "I'm having a real hard time picturing how this conversation went down, via prison phone. 'So, darlin', funny story, me and Raylan used to be in love with each other back in the day. We spent about six months screwin' around in barns and trucks, and then he asked me to run off with him. Shocker, right? Well, I thought we were past all that, but as it turns out maybe not so much. You understand, baby, I'm lonely and I got all these _feelings_ I don't know what to do with. That okay with you?'"

Boyd was looking at him with a small, amused smile. "That's very funny, Raylan, but I already told her about the old days, a good while ago. I told her back when I first fell in love with her."

"Oh." Raylan had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Ava had known all that time, and hadn't let on. 

"I know it wasn't only my secrets I was telling," Boyd said quietly. "Maybe I wasn't right to do that, I don't know. It felt like something too big not to tell her about myself. I didn't know how else to tell her, because it was only ever you. I could have told her in the abstract, I suppose, but that didn't feel right either. I wanted her to truly know me. You and me...that experience changed me. Even though I never acted on those desires again, I still had them, and if it hadn't been for you, I might have feared them. But you taught me it wasn't nothing bad. Because I loved you."

"It was the same for me. Just the same." Raylan rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. "It's alright. It's alright that you told her. I just...Boyd, this situation, it ain't good. By anyone's logic, this should never have happened. We're both taking an enormous risk, just by what we already did. And now someone else knows, and even though I believe Ava can be trusted, shit happens. Pressure can be brought to bear quite easily, especially when she's in such a vulnerable position."

"I know that. And if you tell me this is the last time, I swear to you I won't come looking for you again. So please be honest with me, Raylan. Don't put this on me and expect me to figure out what you're saying. I need to know what you really want. I would take the risk, as I see it, if I could be with you sometimes, like this. But I understand if you won't."

Raylan closed his eyes. The exhilaration he'd felt when they were fooling around - when his dick was hard, and they didn't have to talk about this shit - had left him, and he just felt exhausted. 

Boyd breathed a soft, resigned laugh and turned his body in towards Raylan's side. "We can talk about it tomorrow." He ran his fingers through Raylan's hair, which was speckled with white paint. 

"Oh, you ain't gonna run out without saying goodbye in the morning?"

"I figured that's what you wanted," Boyd replied.

"Yeah, it was. But not this time." Raylan opened his eyes and looked at Boyd. _Not good_ , he thought, _dangerous._ Then Boyd leaned over and kissed him, and he stopped thinking about it. 

Raylan fell asleep easily, being worn out from working all day, and didn't wake up until he heard the front door close. He sat bolt upright, fear shooting through him, until he realized Boyd wasn't with him anymore. He rolled his eyes, thinking that Boyd had changed his mind and left anyway. The relief he knew he should feel wasn't coming to him this time, however. He felt let down.

Then he heard noises coming from the kitchen, water running and pans rattling, and he understood. He stayed in bed until he smelled bacon frying and coffee brewing, then pulled on his jeans from the day before and went downstairs. He entered the kitchen with a smile, scratching his head and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

"Hey, Raylan," Boyd said, looking at him intently, as if gauging his reaction. "You didn't have no groceries, so I went out and got some things for breakfast. I'm glad I got back before you thought I ran out on you again."

The coffee maker beeped and Raylan pulled out two mugs. "I can't remember how you take your coffee," he said. 

"Black is fine," Boyd said, turning back to the stove. Raylan poured him some and fixed his own with sugar and some milk that Boyd had bought. 

"This is fuckin' weird, Boyd."

"I know," Boyd replied, stirring the scrambled eggs. 

"The only smart thing to do here is to stop this. It's the only thing makes any sense. But you know, I never make decisions like that. You're the one who does that. I only ever do what I want to do, and it almost never works out right. Look at what happened with Winona. I never made a single conscious choice in all that, and now she's lost to me, on her own, having my kid."

Boyd looked at him sadly. "And look at how it turned out for me, trying to do the opposite. Pretty much the same, right? We both love people we can't be with, because of our choices - and they're all choices, even if they're not conscious."

Boyd scraped the eggs onto plates and put some bacon on each one. He handed one to Raylan and they sat down.

"You and I can't ever be together either," Raylan said. "Not really. You know that, right?"

Boyd shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure what that means, being together. I don't see us shopping for curtains together, no. But being here with you, it feels good to me. I could love you again, I can feel that. If we keep doing this, I will. You should know that. It ain't that different from before, when you think about it."

"A secret," Raylan said, frowning. "A dangerous one."

Boyd nodded. "I told you, I would have risked that before, and I'll do it now if you want it. But you have to choose this time, really choose. I won't have this laid wholesale at my feet if it all blows up." 

"Tell me something," Raylan said. Boyd inclined his head, and he asked, "Does Ava know what she's risking? I don't mean someone finding out. I mean, does she know she might have to...share your affections as well as...other things?"

"The subject has been broached," Boyd said. "She knows she don't have to worry about losing me. I love her, and she has my loyalty, Raylan. If it came down to it, I would have to stand with her. But I did tell her that being with you wouldn't be a simple thing. That feelings are involved. Like I said, she ain't in love with the idea, but she understands to a certain degree. And she knows you won't expect more than I can offer. You won't try to take me away from her."

"No, I won't do that. But I might not want to give you up so easy, when the time comes. If we do this."

Boyd didn't answer, and Raylan knew he must have thought of that. They'd parted once before, due to circumstances outside of their relationship, and they both remembered how it felt. It seemed like Boyd was the one choosing to ignore reality, this time. 

They ate in silence for awhile, until Boyd said, "She wants you to come to see her. She wants to talk to you."

"Jesus Christ," Raylan muttered. 

"Yeah, it won't be much fun, I realize. You gotta let her say her piece, if you decide you want this."

Raylan nodded and finished his food. "What do have on your busy schedule for today?" he asked, as he got up to put his plate in the sink. 

"As it happens, I cleared my calendar for you." He smiled a hard, cold smile then, and added, "But I don't think that's the kind of thing you want to be asking me. What I can tell you, I'll volunteer on my own. If you have to ask, you can't know."

"Great," Raylan grumbled. "This should work out fuckin' perfect. I must be a goddamn fool. Or maybe just weak."

"Maybe we both are," Boyd said. "Or maybe that shit don't matter for us. It ain't what this is about, our jobs, small talk about our day. Maybe it could have gone that way once, but I tend to doubt it. We don't have to ask that of each other. I can let you be who you are, Raylan, if you can let me."

Raylan stared at him for a few moments. Finally, he said, "I really just wanted to know if you could stay and help me paint."

Boyd grinned and laughed out loud. "Yeah, sure. I can do that."

They finished the upstairs and the dining room, and by the time they'd gotten the furniture Raylan wanted to keep back upstairs, Boyd said he had to get going soon.

"You should have said so earlier," Raylan said. "We didn't even get to mess around none."

"Don't pout," Boyd said, smiling. "I got a little time." He kissed Raylan and reached for the button on his jeans.

When they'd both gotten theirs and straightened themselves out, Raylan pulled him close. "You know, there's stuff we never did, when we were kids. I was thinking, maybe sometime we could add to our repertoire."

"I think that sounds just fine. Some day soon you can tell me about what you were doing when you were off in the world." He smiled. "It's strange thinking of you with other men. It shouldn't be, I suppose, but it is."

"Did you think I was only gay for you?" Raylan asked, smirking.

"No," Boyd said in an irritated tone. "Maybe." 

"I don't think it really works like that. Although, shit, what do I know?"

"More than me, apparently. You can school me later."

Raylan laughed. "It's a lifelong aspiration of mine, son. I finally get my chance."

"Call me if you talk to Ava, alright?" Boyd said, looking slightly anxious. "I can let it ride a little while, but at some point it's gonna become a problem."

"I'll let you know," he said. 

Raylan cleaned up the painting mess and thought about making the drive back to Lexington. He knew he should get going soon, but it suddenly felt like a daunting prospect. He was tired from painting, and drained from everything that had happened, what seemed to be happening with Boyd. He wanted it, but he wanted it to be simple. He didn't want to go grovel for permission from Boyd's goddamn fiancé. 

He sat in the living room, which was growing dark quickly, and poured himself a drink. What could he even say to Ava? Maybe he wouldn't have to say anything, maybe she'd just yell at him and eventually tell him to do whatever he was going to do, since that's what he always did anyway. 

He didn't owe her anything. Boyd was the one with that massive debt to pay, and Raylan had a hard time imagining how he'd ever be able to square it. And then to ask this of her, it seemed incredible. He thought Boyd should have protected her from this, let her stay in the dark. Raylan would have kept the secret for him. He had to know that. 

Raylan finished his drink, hesitated, then poured another and picked up the phone. He called Art at home and told him there was a big problem with the house that he had to take care of immediately, and he needed the next day off. He'd go see Ava in the morning. He kept drinking until he fell asleep. 

Ava sat behind the glass, arms crossed and glaring at him. He picked up the phone and waited, and she let him sit there like an asshole for at least a minute before she picked up her end. Fair enough, he thought. 

"First thing," she said, "you never said nothing to me about any of this when you and me were seeing each other."

"Well, Ava, it wasn't like we-"

"Second thing. All that shit you gave me about how Boyd wasn't a good man, I shouldn't be seeing him. You are the biggest goddamn hypocrite I have ever met, Raylan Givens."

"Yeah," he said, "but I was right, wasn't I? Look where you ended up."

"Fuck you, Raylan. And where do you think you'll end up? Out of a damn job, and that's best case. You think this'll keep? You're crazy."

"That's my lookout," he replied, mostly annoyed because he knew she was probably right. "What I don't get is why you'd entertain this arrangement at all, honestly. Why didn't you just tell him no, and he's a shit for asking?"

Ava let out a high, disbelieving laugh. "If you're so concerned he ain't bein' fair to me, don't that make you just as big a shit as him?"

"Yeah, honey," Raylan said, laughing a little himself. "It surely does, but you already knew that about me, didn't you? Look, I came here because Boyd said you needed to talk to me. Did you just want to tell me some more how I suck? Or did you want to ask me something?"

"Yes, Raylan, in fact I have several questions for you. Boyd said you were...that you loved each other. A long time ago, before you left. He loved you, anyway. Did you really feel the same?"

Raylan frowned. "What, you didn't take his word for it? You think he was lying, or just deluded?"

"Just answer the goddamn question, Raylan."

He sighed heavily. "Yeah. I did. Completely done in. My first time, you know, being in love."

"So how could you just leave like you did?"

Raylan shook his head in wonder. "Why the fuck do you even-"

"I just do," she snapped. 

"Ava," he said slowly, "I was nineteen, no prospects, and a," Raylan lowered his voice and leaned in, as if she'd hear him better that way, "a boyfriend I was never going to be able to have any kind of future with. You think about how people are about that here, now, then you think how it was twenty years ago. How does that look to you, when you picture me staying, _for him_?"

Ava didn't answer, but her face sort of pulled in on itself. She looked like she might cry, and Raylan felt bad about that, but there was no way he was going to let her get away with judging him for that. 

"Honey, I asked him to come with me. Did he tell you that?" When she shook her head, he said, "I did. He chose to stay. Now, I wasn't angry about that. I understood, at least as best I could. But it was hard, and I was hurt. And then..." Raylan shook his head again. Ava knew all that shit. He didn't want to get into it.

"What is this thing you have with him now? Why did that happen now, and not before?"

"You'd have to ask him, but if I had to guess, he was just sad. He was sad about you, and I don't know. I think maybe I'm the only other person he ever felt as strongly about. He came to me saying he wanted honesty. Turns out, if we're honest with each other, that's what happens."

Ava put the phone down and lowered her face into her hands. At first he thought she might be crying, but when she looked back up her eyes were dry, sad, and very tired. She picked the phone up again and just looked at him. She seemed to want him to say something. 

"Ava, I don't know what you're looking for, from me. I'm sorry you're in here. I'm sorry you didn't get your house in the suburbs and your Dairy Queen. Probably you think I'm bein' an asshole, but I mean that sincerely. And I'm sorry that Boyd feels he needs this, and I'm sorry I want it too much to turn it down. If you tell him it ain't okay, he'll accept that. I know he will. And I would...I would too."

"You be careful, Raylan. Don't you dare get him killed with this thing. You give him what he needs, but so help me, if you start thinking you can keep him...that you can make him leave, this time, I...I'll kill you. I will find a way."

Raylan nodded, and replaced the receiver carefully. Ava did the same. When he got up to leave, he lifted a hand to say goodbye, but she'd already turned away, looking for the guard. 

Raylan called Boyd's cell on his way off the grounds. 

"Raylan," Boyd answered, "Didn't expect to hear from you so soon." There was a smile in his voice as he asked, "You miss me that much?"

"It's done. I saw Ava."

Silence came down the line for a few seconds, and then Boyd said, "You really went to see her?"

"You sound shocked."

"I honestly thought, you'd keep telling me for awhile that you were gonna do it, and I'd pretend to believe you, and eventually you'd stop bothering, and I'd have I decide if I was gonna let it go or not."

Raylan winced. That did sound like him. "Well, I did it. And she was pissed, and scared, and really fuckin' sad, but she told me to go ahead and give you what you need. And I'd love to say that shamed me enough to put an end to this, but I'm beginning to think I simply don't have any shame."

"Come meet me, Raylan. It's still early. Just for a little while. I'll come to your place, you probably shouldn't make a habit of coming to mine. I don't want nobody coming to look for me and finding your car there."

"Yeah, alright. But...It probably ain't a great idea for you to come out to Arlo's too often either. We're gonna have to figure something out."

"You think that old barn is still standing?" Raylan could hear the smile back in his voice. "We had some good times in that place."

"I don't know, Boyd. I have a hard time thinking of anything but the last time." Raylan immediately regretted mentioning that, but he couldn't take it back. It was true, anyway. "I'll be there in a couple hours."

"Alright," Boyd replied. "See you then."

Raylan got to Harlan in the late afternoon, and Boyd's truck was already there. He realized again how tricky this was going to be, how risky and stupid. They were going to have to start meeting at hotels or something. 

Boyd wasn't in his truck, and Raylan remembered locking up the house, so he wondered where he could be. He went inside and found Boyd reading a book on the living room sofa.

"What the hell, man, did you break in?" he asked. 

"I had a key," Boyd replied. "Ava used to come check on him, make sure he was taking his-"

"Got it," Raylan said, cutting him off abruptly. The last thing he wanted to do was revisit all that. 

Boyd must have realized what the issue was, because he got up and walked over to Raylan, frowning with concern. "I'll give you the key back today. I wasn't thinking."

Raylan looked at him for a moment, mouth pressed into a tight line. "Keep it," he almost growled. "Might come in useful."

"I'm sorry, Raylan. Truly, so sorry." He didn't elaborate, but Raylan knew what he was apologizing for, and it wasn't just for using the damn key. He just nodded and sat down on the couch. Boyd sat next to him. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"In what sense? I ain't angry with you, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not. I meant, was it bad with Ava?"

Raylan gave a shrug. "Not really. It certainly made plain to me my own selfish nature, but it ain't the first time a woman has inspired such a realization." He smiled grimly. "She threatened to kill me if I try to make you run off with me. Which would have been funny, except I could almost imagine the circumstances."

Boyd reached behind Raylan and slid his fingers into the hair at the back of his head, which he knew was getting way too long, and lightly scratched his scalp, like you would a cat. He leaned back into it and closed his eyes. 

"You want to fool around? " Boyd asked, his voice soft and very close to Raylan's ear.

"Would it be weird if I said no? I ain't really in the mood."

"It ain't weird at all," Boyd answered, still rubbing his head. "You want to talk instead?"

"Sure, but not about anything in particular. Okay?"

Boyd laughed. "Okay. You and me, we can talk for hours about nothing at all."

"Let's do that, then," Raylan said, leaning into Boyd as he put his arm around him. He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the couch. "Maybe we can argue about immigration reform." 

Raylan stayed about two more hours, and then Boyd said he needed to go. 

"I should get going soon too," Raylan said. 

He walked Boyd to the door. "I'll call you," Boyd said, and Raylan made a face. 

"It's gonna look bad if you're calling me regular, and they ever need to subpoena my phone records."

"I got a prepaid, can't be traced back to me. I'll use that. I get a new one frequently, so it won't be lots of calls from the same number."

Raylan sighed, and he was sure he wasn't making a happy face, but Boyd gave him a tolerant smile and said, "We'll work it out. It's gonna be okay."

Raylan rolled his eyes, but kissed him goodbye anyway, and stood watching him as he got in his truck and drove off.

He was back in the house for less than a minute when he heard a car pull into the drive. It wasn't Boyd; the engine sounded like it belonged to a much smaller vehicle. From the window, he saw Bob Sweeney exiting his Gremlin, an aggrieved but determined expression on his face. _Fuck_ was the only thought his mind could produce as Bob came up the front steps.

He opened the door before the man had a chance to knock. "Hey there, Constable." He kept his voice casual in case there was a chance in hell he didn't just see him kissing Boyd on the front porch. Christ, this thing had barely started and already he was being careless as hell. It did not bode well. "I heard you pull up. What brings you around?"

Bob took his hat off and said, "Hey, Raylan. I- I really need to speak with you. Can I come in a minute?"

"Sure, Bob," Raylan sighed, standing aside and holding the door open. "Come on in."

Bob came in, fiddling with the brim of his hat and looking around the room. He wouldn't meet Raylan's eyes. Raylan found himself getting irritated. He wasn't going to do this for Bob. He crossed his arms and leaned against the arm of the sofa, waiting.

"The thing is, Raylan, is I was coming by to check up on the house, like you've been having me do. But then I saw your car here, so I figured I'd stop by anyhow and say hi. And that's when I saw...I saw..."

"Oh, for God's sake Bob," Raylan said irritably. "You saw me kiss Boyd Crowder. It's okay, you can say it, I won't be shocked. I'm the one who did it."

"But... _why?_ He's...He's a criminal, Raylan. And he's a guy! Shit, Jesus Christ, are you _gay_? You always have such pretty girlfriends, though. Are they, like, beards or something? Or wait, are you just pretending to like him, to catch him doing something?"

Bob looked like he was casting around for other ideas, trying to find a way to justify what he'd seen, but came up blank and just looked at Raylan like a kid who just found out Santa wasn't real.

"Are you done?" Raylan asked. Bob nodded, so he said, "Okay. No, I ain't pretending so I can arrest him. No, the women I've dated are not fake girlfriends. Am I gay? Not exactly, but I do like certain guys, so I guess you could say I am a little bit. I am well aware that Boyd is a criminal. As to the question of why, well that's slightly harder to answer than those other ones, and maybe best done over a drink. How about that? Will you sit and have a drink with me, Bob?"

"Okay." Bob sat down on the armchair across from the sofa, still worrying at his hat. 

"You're gonna ruin that," Raylan said, pulling the hat from his hands and setting it on the coffee table. He took two glasses from the sideboard and poured a generous double for each of them. 

"Now," Raylan said, "you wanted to know why I would have anything to do with Boyd Crowder. I can understand why you'd ask that question, considering our recent history, but you might remember me and him got to be real good friends after high school, when we were both mining coal. Does that ring a bell?"

"Yeah, I remember that, sure." Bob looked up suddenly. "Are you saying you and him used to...do stuff together back then?"

Raylan nodded. "So this, what you saw, that wasn't nothing to worry about. It was just us doing a little...call it reminiscing. It wasn't no big deal." 

Bob frowned like he had an idea, hesitated, then said, "When I was a kid back in Florida, fourteen or so, I had this friend who used to always steal porno magazines from his uncle's store, and he would bring those over and we'd jerk off to 'em. I guess I worried it was kinda gay, jerking off next to another guy, but then we were looking At naked girls, so maybe not. Was it that kind of thing?" 

Bob looked so hopeful that Raylan almost hated to burst his bubble, but he said, "Uh...well, no. Not like that. Me and Boyd were together. Boyfriends, like. We were in love, actually. But of course, we couldn't tell nobody. You know how Harlan was. Is still, for that matter. I left after some people sort of found out and tried to beat the shit out of us." 

"Shit, Raylan," Bob said, sounding so dismayed that Raylan had to smile. "That's terrible."

"That's alright," Raylan said. "It was a long time ago, and anyway, leaving was the best thing for me, for all kinds of reasons. But I did leave something behind, and I guess I sort of forgot that for awhile. But look, Bob, I really need you to keep quiet about this. You can't tell _anyone._ I'd be in a shitload of trouble because of who he is."

"Jesus Christ, Raylan, anyone could have come past your house and seen that. That was- that was really stupid."

Raylan nodded and said patiently, "I know. You're absolutely right, and I've learned my lesson. Okay? I promise, there ain't anything for you to be concerned about. Just forget what you saw."

"I kind of doubt I can do that. But I won't tell." 

"Good enough." Raylan downed the dregs of his drink and held out a hand to Bob. They shook, and Bob put his mostly full glass down on the table and picked up his hat. 

"Guess I'll be going." He stood, and Raylan walked him out. 

When he'd closed the door behind him, Raylan leaned his forehead against it and groaned. They had to stop meeting in Harlan.

Months went by, and Raylan worked hard at keeping his life carefully compartmentalized. He worked hard at his job. Winona had their baby, a beautiful, perfect, tiny girl, and Raylan often drove to visit them on the weekends. On the way back from these trips, he would sometimes meet with Boyd at some remote location. Hotels, occasionally, but just as often, they'd be outside. They'd go for hikes or drives, just like old times. 

But it wasn't old times. They were older, and both much sadder. Long ago, they'd had moments of pure, true joy together. Now the most they got was a little relief, some temporary comfort, and this sweet but painful ache that made them hold tightly to each other before they parted each time. 

The biggest challenge, by far, was keeping himself separate from the goings on in Harlan. He'd asked Art to put Tim and Rachel on things in that area, when possible, and Art didn't ask for any explanations. There were plenty of reasons that was a good idea even without Boyd. 

Still, he knew. He fucking knew that Boyd was running heroin out of Harlan County. There was no way not to know it, and it bothered him. Even setting aside any moral issues with it, it shined a light on Boyd, and by extension possibly himself. Things were heating up, and Raylan knew it was only a matter of time before he was called to get involved down there. 

Another fear he had involved Ava. She had an appeal in the works, claiming that she’d been set up by Lee Paxton, and that the Harlan County police department was corrupt and under the control of the money interests. Raylan didn’t see how she could get out, what with Ellen May’s testimony, but it being Harlan, he wouldn’t be too surprised. And it wasn’t like he could begrudge her that, but he knew it would change everything. He had no claim on Boyd’s attentions, and it pissed him off that he even cared enough to worry about it, but he did. Ava would be well within her rights to tell Boyd to end it, and Boyd would. Raylan was under no illusions about that.

In early June, almost eight months into this arrangement, or relationship, or whatever you want to call it, Boyd phoned him in the middle of the week and asked him to make a trip down to Harlan, even though he had planned to stay in Lexington over the weekend and catch up on shit he needed to do. 

“I don’t know, Boyd,” he said, “I’m pretty fucking tired already and I got a ton of shit still to do this week.”

Boyd paused, then said, “I understand, Raylan, I do, but I would really like to see you. I- I need to see you. Please.”

Raylan frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that _at all._ But if Boyd was saying _please_ , he didn’t feel it would be prudent to say no. 

Boyd was in Raylan’s house when he arrived, though his truck was nowhere to be found. When Raylan asked about it, Boyd said, “I got a ride somewhere close and walked the rest.”

Raylan sat down next to him on the sofa and laid his head down in his lap. Boyd stroked his hair. 

“What was so urgent, anyway?” Raylan turned his face up to look at him. 

“I just- I’ve been worried lately. I feel like things are getting dangerous, and I keep thinking you’re gonna call me up and tell me it’s over. Frankly, I’m a little surprised you haven’t already. So I...didn’t want to wait another week to see you. I’m sorry if I scared you or something, I didn’t mean to. I just needed you here.”

Raylan smiled up at him. “Well, I’m here. What do you want to do?”

Boyd looked down at him and his face was so sad for a moment, before it cleared and he smiled back. “I had an idea, if you’ll indulge me, Raylan.”

Just as twilight was edging into full darkness, they pulled up along the overgrown, little-used dirt road that led their old swimming hole. They hadn’t been back there since they’d started up again, and Raylan wasn’t sure it was the best idea to do it now. His memory of the other time was so strong, and so perfect. He was afraid of tainting it. 

They sat on the bank and looked out at the water. Boyd snaked an arm around his waist and leaned his head on Raylan’s shoulder. 

“You want to go in?” Boyd asked.

"Maybe we shouldn't,” Raylan sighed. “It won't be the same. It won't be as good. None of this is as good as it was."

"I know. I'm sorry about that. I wish it could be."

"Ain't your fault. Ain't mine. It just is."

Boyd took his hand and threaded their fingers together. "I do love you, Raylan," he said.

"I know that. We both knew this would happen, that we'd love each other again and that it would make us miserable."

"Let's just go in, alright?” Boyd said. “Remember...remember how it felt? You were so quiet the whole time, hardly said a word, just kept looking up at the sky and back at me, and you smiled so beautiful. And when I was touching you, you told me nothing ever felt so good. It was perfect, you said."

"That whole night was perfect," Raylan said. "One perfect night out of a lot of shit."

"That night was a goddamn miracle, Raylan, and we're lucky to have had it. Not everyone gets a perfect night. But now you're just being pitiful. We had a lot of good nights, back then and now. And I'm sure you've had your share without me too. Just because they don't hold up next to that one, well, that ain't hardly a fair standard."

"I love you, Boyd. Whatever happens, I want you to remember that.”

Boyd kissed him. "We'll both remember. Can’t nothing take that away from us.”

"Okay,” Raylan said, largely because this conversation was making him too sad, “let’s go swimming."

The water was cold, and the stars were beautiful, and when Boyd touched him it felt so good, the same as before, really. It was only everything else that was different, lesser, muted. 

"Do you remember what I said to you that night?" Boyd asked, whispering in his ear as he trailed wet fingers across his neck. 

"Yes," Raylan said. "I remember everything about that night, Boyd. Every single thing."

"Tell me."

Raylan pulled Boyd against him and held his face between his hands. "You said I was the best thing that ever happened to you." He smiled sadly. "I wish that had been true."

"It was true, in its way. I wouldn't trade it for nothing, Raylan. Not anything."

They touched each other in the water, kissing and swaying together, and Raylan didn’t know why it felt like the end of something. He knew the end was looming, but he thought they had more time. Or maybe they’d just need to take a break, for awhile. There was no reason to think they were saying goodbye, and yet that’s how it seemed to him.

Later, in bed, Boyd held onto him the whole night. That wasn’t especially unusual, but it felt more desperate than in the past. When he woke, he turned over under Boyd’s arm and looked at him. 

“What’s going on, Boyd?” When Boyd just looked back at him, Raylan nodded. “Alright,” he sighed, “never mind.” Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know. Not until he had to.

Raylan got up and put on coffee, then went out to sit on the front porch steps. Boyd came out ten minutes later, barefoot and shirtless, with cups for both of them, and sat down next to him. Raylan looked up in surprise and said in a wary voice, “Maybe we should go inside.”

Boyd shrugged. “Can’t see us from the road,” he said. “Only person might be pokin’ around is Bobby Sweeney, but that’s just ‘cause he’s got a crush on you. He won’t do nothing.”

Raylan snorted. “He wants to be me, that ain’t the same thing. Though I can’t say why anyone would want that.”

Boyd grinned and bumped him with his shoulder. “‘Cause you’re a gorgeous, badass crime fighter with a ridiculous hat that you almost manage to pull off. And a smokin’ hot secret outlaw boyfriend. Who wouldn’t want it?”

Raylan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t entirely repress a smile as he sipped at his coffee. Boyd took Raylan’s cup from him and set it down next to his. He reached up to touch Raylan’s cheek and nudged him so he’d face him. Raylan smiled, then leaned in and kissed him softly, and for a long time. After a bit, Boyd started to put his hands on him and said, “Let’s go inside.” 

Raylan stood and held his hand down to Boyd, then pulled him up. Boyd kissed him again and draped his arms over his shoulders, then leaned his forehead into Raylan’s, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. “Alright,” he said, after a moment, “let’s go inside.”

They went back in and fucked in a leisurely, languid way, as if they had all the time in the world, but Boyd got up to go as soon as they were finished. 

“You want a ride somewhere?” Raylan asked. 

“Nah,” Boyd said. “A long walk sounds good to me right now.” He leaned down to kiss Raylan quickly, then whispered, "Bye, baby," and left the house. 

On Monday, he got in a few minutes late, and Tim and Rachel were already in Art's office. Something was obviously going on. Everyone looked pissed, and Rachel leaned out the door to motion him in. 

"What's up?" he asked, coming in and closing the door behind himself.

Art had a dangerous look on his face. "I cannot tell you how damn sick I am of Harlan County. Seems sweet little Ellen May has decided to change her story. Claims she lied about Ava Crowder shooting that mean, terrible man in the back of Boyd Crowder's bar. She says she was put up to it, threatened by Lee Paxton. I think it's very possible Ava Crowder might be freed."

Raylan kept his face as neutral as possible. He wasn't sure how to react anyway. He had too many emotions to sort out to be able to handle it at work. He needed a goddamn drink. All he could manage at the moment was to wonder what the hell Boyd had done to make that happen, but he figured it wasn't his business anyway. Boyd would tell him if he could, and if not, Raylan didn't want to know.

Suddenly, he realized that must have been what was up with Boyd over the weekend. Ava was going to get out, and Boyd had wanted one last weekend with him before he had to break things off. 

"Raylan?" Art was saying, had possibly already said a few times, because he sounded pretty impatient.

"Yeah, Art, what?"

"I'd like you to go and talk to Ellen May, try to find out why she's suddenly changing her tune. She knows you a little, might trust you enough to talk. Find out if she's being threatened by someone else, my guess being Boyd Crowder, obviously, or someone affiliated with him."

Raylan blinked. Unfortunately, that was his best guess too. "Sure. No problem," he said. "I'll head down now." At least he'd have some time in the car to get his head together. 

Ellen May was staying in a hotel room outside of town. She tried to push him out the door when she saw who he was, but this was obviously unsuccessful. 

"Ellen May, honey, I ain't here to cause you no trouble," Raylan said, taking care to sound as homelike as possible. He got inside the door and she backed up quickly, fearful, eyes darting around like she was looking to bolt. There was nowhere for her to go, though. 

"Marshal, I ain't gonna change my mind. I know the truth, and that's all I'm telling, alright? So just...that's just how it is."

"Did someone threaten you, Ellen May? Because I promise you, we can protect you. Was it Boyd Crowder?"

Ellen May shook her head hard and said, "No! It was no one. No one threatened me, I swear. I'm just telling the truth."

"Was it Wynn Duffy?" 

Raylan saw her react to that, and knew he must have hit the mark, but still she shook her head and denied it. She was terrified. He tried pressing her a bit more, but she was well dug in. He tried to give her a card before he left, but she wouldn't even take that. 

Two days later, Raylan was working at his desk, when a courier came in looking for Art. A few minutes after he left, Art opened his door and motioned curtly. 

"Raylan, in my office now," he said, then turned around before waiting for an answer. 

Raylan had never heard Art use that tone of voice, with him or anyone else. He went quickly, and didn't have to be told to close the door behind himself. Art's face was full of a cold rage that was almost frightening. He tossed a stack of pictures on his desk and stared at Raylan.

Raylan picked them up, and immediately felt sick. They were taken outside of his house in Harlan, just that past Sunday morning. First was him and Boyd sitting next to each other, drinking coffee. Innocent enough, except their shoulders touched, and Boyd had no shirt on. Both of them were barefoot.

In the second shot, Boyd had his hand on Raylan's face, and Raylan winced at how vividly the swastika tat stood out. As if that somehow made it worse, as if that made a difference. 

Raylan saw no point in looking anymore. He threw the photos down and forced himself to raise his eyes back up to Art's face. 

"There was a note attached," Art said. "Would you like to know what was in it?" He didn't wait for an answer before picking up a sheet of paper and putting on his glasses. "It says, 'This is not blackmail. It's simply a notification, as we have already sent these to the press.' It's from Wynn Duffy."

Raylan heard a small sound come from his throat, and he closed his eyes. He couldn't understand why this was happening. Duffy didn't like him, but what was the point of this? 

"Tell me this, Raylan, and don't you dare lie to me. How long?"

Raylan looked up, at first unsure of how to answer. How long? Forever. But that wasn't what Art meant. "Eight months or so," he said weakly. 

Art frowned like he hadn't expected that answer. "Why the hell...well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. You been lying all this time, why would I believe anything you tell me?"

Raylan was shaking his head. "You told me not to lie, and I'm not. I wouldn't insult you like that. Art, I-"

"You wouldn't _insult me_? Raylan, this whole situation is a damn insult. We're not talking about some witness, here. This isn't Ava Crowder all over again - and Jesus Christ, can't you stay away from that goddamn family? This man is a hardened criminal. He's running a massive heroin operation out of your home town. He- shit, son, he let your own daddy take the rap for one of his - presumably many - murders."

Raylan stared back at him, open-mouthed. He knew all that, of course he did. He knew, had known ever since he came back, that Boyd was a bad guy. He'd chosen to put that in a box, and shove it away in the dark, because there were other things Boyd was. Like his first love, for instance. The only man he'd ever loved. His goddamn _friend._

"What are you gonna tell me, son? You gonna try to make me understand this, somehow? Because I can tell you right now, I never will. 'We dug coal together' ain't cutting it anymore."

Raylan shook his head, feeling dazed. Maybe he was in shock. 

"Why would Duffy want to bring you down?"

Raylan shook his head. "I dont- I mean, he doesn't like me, but...if I had to guess, maybe he just saw an opportunity to get at the office, cause a scandal, get us off the trail of..."

"The heroin he's humping into eastern Kentucky with the assistance of your boyfriend."

There was nothing Raylan could say. He had no excuse, there was no explanation that would make sense, even to himself.

"You're suspended, Raylan. I want your star and your weapon. You'll be notified when your hearing before the disciplinary board is sch-"

"No." Raylan looked straight at Art for the first time since he'd seen the pictures. "No, I'll resign. I have to. I can't..." He trailed off, shaking his head again. No way was he going to stand in front of a bunch of Marshals and explain the nature of his and Boyd's relationship. No way in hell was that ever going to happen. 

"So, it's true, then. Not only have you been screwing this asshole, but you've been helping him too. That's just great, Raylan."

"Art, God, no, just-"

Art folded his arms and looked at him with utter disgust and disappointment. "I can't help but think there's some connection between this and the fact that the eye witness against Ava Crowder has changed her testimony."

Raylan gaped at him, his mouth falling open slightly. He felt all the blood drain from his head and thought he might puke, but he pushed that down hard. He was shaking, though, and now Art was looking at him with a little bit of concern mixed with the disgust. 

"Art," he said, barely able to hear himself through the blood pounding in his ears, "I need you to take my gun off me right now, because otherwise I can't really say what I might do."

Art reached forward quickly and took the weapon from him, then said, "Sit down."

Raylan sat and accepted a glass of bourbon from Art. Almost certainly the last one he'd ever have in this office, or in Art's company.

Art leaned against his desk, arms still crossed and glaring at Raylan. "Talk," he said. 

"Boyd must have set me up," he said weakly. "I fucking told him we should go inside. That's why he wouldn't." Something terrible occurred to him then, and he said, "Were any of those pictures taken somewhere else? In the- in the water?"

"No," Art said. "What does it matter?"

"Nothing," Raylan replied. 

Art looked about to speak again, but Tim walked in just then. 

"Oh shit, sorry, Art." He looked at Raylan. "What's going on? You okay man? You look..." His voice trailed off as his attention was caught by what was on Art's desk. The one on the top of the pile depicted Raylan kissing Boyd and sticking his hand down the back of his pants, as Boyd rucked up Raylan's shirt. "What. the. fuck," Tim breathed.

Raylan had hunched over, looking at the floor between his feet. He didn't want to look at Tim, didn't want to see his face as he said, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Raylan. How could you...that's...Jesus Christ."

Raylan had pretty much had enough at that point. He knew it was bad, what he'd done, but he also knew that if Ava Crowder had been the kingpin and they'd gotten photos of Raylan with her, they'd be a hell of a lot more understanding. They weren't being understanding because... well, they didn't understand. Not at all. And they were probably a little, or a lot, grossed out by it. 

The anger that came from that realization gave Raylan the strength to get up. He placed his badge on Art's desk and said, "I'm sorry. Truly," and walked out. 

His first stop was his apartment, where he kept a personal firearm. He felt more in control of himself now, and he didn't think he'd be driving to Harlan to kill Boyd. At least not today. 

He headed to the last place he'd known Duffy's trailer to be, and to his surprise it was still there. He would have thought Wynn Duffy would be more afraid of him, especially now that he didn't have the law keeping him boxed in. He wouldn't be throwing any bullets today. If he let one fly, it would be at full speed.

He kicked at the door of the trailer, and Duffy opened it, pissily irritated as always. "You don't have to damage the door, Marshal, you could just knock."

"I ain't a Marshal no more," he growled, "so congratulations on that. I need information, right now. The way I'm feeling, I would be glad to shoot you, so do not fucking mess with me."

"Of course, of course. Well," Duffy said officiously, "you're a reasonably intelligent man. You must have put some of it together."

"You wanted to embarrass the Marshals office, for practical reasons, and me in particular, for personal ones."

Duffy smiled his sharp smile and said, "Go on."

"You put pressure on Ellen May. You're gonna get Ava Crowder out of prison."

"Sorry about that, Givens. You'll have to share."

"Boyd...Boyd set it up so you could get the pictures. In exchange for your help for Ava."

"Very good, Marshal," Duffy said, sitting back and crossing his legs. 

"Quit calling me that," Raylan growled through clenched teeth. "How'd you find out about me and Boyd? Did he come to you? Was this his idea?"

Duffy's expression turned gleeful, almost like he was surprised at his good fortune. "Oh, Givens, this is so sad. It's almost _tragic_. You really _care_ about that shitkicker. Goodness, that is almost too much. Look at you, man. Honestly, I think I've done you a favor. _Jesus._ Boyd Crowder." Duffy was shaking his head in wonder. 

"I ought to kill you," Raylan said. 

"Maybe," Duffy said, "but then my guy will kill you, and you'll miss your chance to kill the person you're _really_ angry with. That would be such a waste."

Raylan didn't answer, just banged out of the trailer and stumbled to his car and started speeding towards Harlan.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan confronts Boyd, then loses himself for awhile. When he finds himself again, where will he be?

Raylan wasn't thinking too coherently on the drive down. He had pretty much one thought that kept repeating itself over and over - or, not so much a thought as an image of his fist connecting with Boyd's jaw. The only thing he was feeling was anger, pure and hot, and he wanted to keep it that way. It felt good. Certainly much better than anything else he might reasonably be feeling about this. 

Boyd's truck was in the drive when he pulled up, and Raylan briefly considered smashing his windshield, but that didn't seem as satisfying as hitting the man himself. He pounded on the front door of the house and waited. 

Boyd opened it with a look of utter resignation, like he was ready to accept whatever punishment Raylan would mete out. It only made Raylan angrier. He grabbed Boyd's shirt and pulled him out into the yard.

"Talk," Raylan said. 

"I won't insult you by telling you I'm sorry," Boyd said. "I made a choice, and I have to stand by it. Did you come here to beat the shit out of me? I can't say I wouldn't understand."

Raylan looked at him without answering, then hit him hard in the stomach. Boyd doubled over, gasping for air, as Raylan watched silently. When he started to straighten up, Raylan hit him again in the same place. Boyd fell to his knees. 

"How long?" Raylan growled. "From that first night? You were playing me that whole time, weren't you, you fucking sociopath?"

Boyd didn't appear able to speak yet, but he was shaking his head emphatically. 

"You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Raylan said, his voice trembling. He felt like he might be close to hyperventilating. "I wish I'd never met you. I don't ever want to see your face again." Raylan knew he should stalk off, get in his car and leave, but he felt paralyzed. 

Boyd stood up and looked him squarely in the eye. "I love you," he said. 

Raylan's eyes went wide and furious. He felt like he could possibly kill Boyd in that moment. He strode forward and grabbed him by the shirt, then threw him against his car. "Do not _ever_ say that to me again. It means nothing."

"It means what it always meant. I told you from the start, I promised Ava my loyalty. But that don't mean I loved you any less."

Raylan held the front of his shirt and smacked him in the face, open-handed but very hard. "I said, _don't say it._ "

Panting, Boyd shook his head. "I love you, Raylan."

Raylan made a furious, injured sound and pulled Boyd off the car, then threw him on the ground. He started to walk around to the driver's side, but Boyd grabbed his ankle. He tried to kick him off, but Boyd held tight. 

Raylan stood still then, and said in a deadly calm voice, "What else do you think you can get from me, Boyd? You already took my love and twisted it into something ugly. You took my trust and threw it back in my face. You took my job and my reputation. I got nothing left."

Boyd let go of his ankle and sat up. "Less than a month, if that makes any difference," he said. "Duffy approached me after he found out about us. I didn't go into this with anything except my feelings for you. My _love_ for you. You can hit me again, I don't really care. Maybe I want you to. You got cause."

Raylan just shook his head and got into his car. As he drove away, he could see Boyd standing in the middle of the yard, staring after him. He looked away and sped off. 

Raylan stopped for a bottle and went straight to his house. He would have preferred to go back to Lexington, but he was shaking too much to drive far, and besides, he wanted to get blind drunk as soon as possible. He was going to have to give up the apartment soon anyway, so he figured he might as well get used to it. He'd have to stay there until he had a place to go, some kind of work somewhere, hopefully far away from this place.

Though, he reminded himself, not too far. He had to be able to see his daughter. He didn't want to be a stranger to her. He thought of Winona, and he knew there was no chance now, she'd never take him back after this. Why should she, anyway? He couldn't possibly have shown worse judgement than to get involved with Boyd Crowder. 

He sat in front of the tv and drank until he passed out. 

The next day, he spent working outside, tearing out weeds and overgrown shrubs. He couldn't think what else to do. He couldn't wrap his head around his entire career being over. It felt like his entire life was over. In the evening, he got drunk again. 

The next couple of weeks followed much the same pattern, though on two occasions he drove out of town and went to bars in the evening. He brought a woman home one night who said her name was Amber, but when he couldn't get it up, she called him a fag and left in a huff. 

He was pretty sure that hadn't been the issue, but just in case, the next night he found an out of the way bar a few towns over that catered to closeted rednecks. He could probably have drunk for free the whole night, judging from the amount of attention he'd gotten there, but he took a boy who he very much hoped was at least in his early twenties out to the parking lot. He didn't meet with much more success with him than he had with the girl, and ended up giving the kid a hand job and driving home feeling old, pissed off and frustrated. 

He woke up the next morning, cotton-mouthed and with a pounding headache, to what seemed like a very loud knocking. He was still in his clothes from the night before, sweaty and rumpled and undoubtedly smelling like the floor of a bar. 

Bob Sweeney was at the door, looking nervous, and also deeply concerned. 

"Raylan, hey," he said. "Jesus, you look like shit." 

"Nice to see you too, Bob. I ain't really prepared for company though, so..."

Bob's face turned stubborn, and he said, "I've been trying to get in touch with you, but your phone's been off."

"Yeah, well, there's a reason for that. I didn't want anyone to get in touch. I ain't real sure what you wanted to talk about, but I have to assume it's some form of 'I told you so,' and that really is not necessary. You were right, okay? Boyd was a poor choice of companion."

Bob snorted. "I'm pretty sure you already knew that. And you ought to know I'm not that much of an asshole. I was worried about you because I figured you'd be freaking out. But anyway, that's not why I'm here now." Bob glanced past Raylan into the house. "Can I come in, do you think?"

"Uh...well, sure, I guess. It's a fuckin' wreck, though."

Bob nodded, looking even more worried. 

They sat in the living room amidst dirty plates and glasses, two empty Jim Beam bottles, and dirty clothes. Bob looked around, and Raylan huffed. "Yeah," he said flatly. "I ain't been having a great couple of weeks. What do you want, Bob?"

Bob had removed his hat when he sat down, and now he scratched his head, looking down and not at Raylan. 

"I heard some shit, is all. Thought you might want to know. Tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if I should even tell you, but I knew you'd probably want to hear."

"I'm losin' what little patience I had," Raylan said, rubbing his eyes. He felt like total shit and wanted a shower more than anything just then. 

Bob sighed. "Boyd Crowder is in the hospital. Apparently he's been getting shitfaced at his bar every night, and I guess some miner picked the wrong night to, I don't know exactly, make some joke or call him a name, or something. Boyd flipped out, started beating the shit out of the guy, but then his buddies joined in. I hear he's in pretty bad shape, broken ribs, broken arm, busted nose, who the hell knows what else."

Raylan was staring at him impassively. "Well, okay," he said, "I guess someone else did what I should have already done. You can always count on Harlan to give a man the beating he so sorely needs." Bob was still sitting there, frowning at him, so Raylan said, "Is that it?"

Bob shrugged, uncomfortable now for some reason. "Ava Crowder is out of jail, but...Boyd's not living with her anymore. He moved out the day after she came home."

Raylan's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Alright. Thanks, Bob. For checking in, and for telling me this shit."

"Raylan, you're not gonna-"

"Don't worry about it," Raylan said, cutting him off with a tone that clearly said he wasn't discussing this any longer. 

Raylan swallowed three aspirin and stayed in the shower until it ran cold. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He couldn't go on like this. 

He cleaned up the living room and did the dishes, made himself some eggs and coffee, then called a guy, Terrence Floyd, who he'd known in Miami. He worked for a security firm that had offices all over the south, and Raylan had used him as a source on a few occasions. He'd always told Raylan he could find a place for him if he ever got tired of working for the Feds.

He was spare with the details, just told him he'd gotten mixed up with some bad people in Kentucky and lost his job. Floyd was happy to hear from him, and said he'd make some inquiries. 

After that, he drove up to Lexington to start packing up his apartment. It took a somewhat depressingly short time, and he was able to get all of his shit into the car with room to spare. 

When everything was packed, he went down to the bar and picked up the small pile of mail they were holding for him. There was a bunch of junk, a credit card bill, and an envelope with just his name on it. 

Raylan opened it to find a handwritten note from Tim, asking him to call. He sat staring at it for a few minutes, then ordered a drink and picked up his phone. 

Tim picked up right away, and said, "Raylan, where the fuck are you?"

"At my place, at the bar. Why do you fucking care?" 

Tim didn't answer right away, but eventually said, "I'm coming over there. Wait for me, alright?"

"Why, so you can tell me again what a goddamn disgrace I am? I don't think so."

Tim sighed impatiently. "You wouldn't have called if you didn't want to talk to me. I'm sorry, okay? I was really fucking shocked. Just wait for me. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Raylan hung up without answering. He finished his drink and ordered another, and promised himself it would be the last one for the day. He'd give Tim until it was gone, and then he'd go. He didn't need Tim's forgiveness, or whatever it was he wanted to offer. 

Tim made it just in time. He slid onto the barstool next to Raylan and ordered a Coke. He didn't speak until the bartender brought it and moved away again. 

"I'm sorry things went down the way they did," be began, and Raylan held up a hand to cut him off.

"Listen," Raylan said, "what happened was my fault. I knew from the very first time I let Boyd back into my life that it was gonna end badly. I have no one to blame but myself. And him, of course, lest I fucking forget. I knew better and did it anyway. So don't say you're sorry."

"Raylan, I won't pretend to understand what the hell you were doing with Crowder. That's your business. But I don't believe you ever helped him. I don't believe you were involved with the shit he does. Whatever your personal relationship was, I believe you were a good Marshal. I know that doesn't mean much, but it's true just the same."

Raylan gazed at him for a few seconds, then said, "I crossed the line, Tim. I never had a hand in what he was doing. He never talked about it and I never asked. But I knew all the same, and I...I won't go into it, but I ain't clean in this. Don't be thinking I was. I deserved what I got."

Tim looked down and nodded. "What are you going to do?"

"I got a few ideas. I'll be okay."

"Are you going to see him again?"

Raylan wanted very badly to be able to say no and mean it. But he realized just then that it would be a lie. He wasn't quite done with Boyd yet, no matter how much he wished he was. He just shrugged. 

"Raylan, why? What is the deal with you and him? He's ruined your life."

Raylan shook his head. "He made a calculation. That's what he does. He weighed the fates of two people he cared for, and decided that betraying me and killing my career was better than letting Ava rot in jail for something he got her into. The weird thing is, I understand his choice. It hurts, don't get me wrong. But I get it."

"If he loves her so much, why the hell was he...with you?"

Raylan smiled at Tim, and frowned at the same time. "You don't think someone can love two people at once?" He shrugged. "That never bothered me. What he has with her...that's different from him and me. Separate."

"I really don't get it. I can't imagine being okay with that. Did she know about it?"

"He told her. She was pissed. But she let him have it anyway. She loves him."

"Do you, still?"

Raylan scowled down at the bar. "Fuck you," he muttered, after a long pause.

"I'll take that as a yes," Tim said. "You have to stay away, Raylan."

Raylan just nodded. Tim finished his Coke, and shook Raylan's hand solemnly. "It was a pleasure working with you," he said.

"You're full of shit," Raylan replied. "But thanks for saying so."

Raylan paid his tab, then went to his car and started driving to Harlan. He passed the hospital on his way through town and thought of Boyd, but he wasn't about to visit him in there. 

It was late when he finally made it back to the house, nearly eleven, and he fell into bed immediately. 

Raylan kept working on the yard, and a few days later, he got a call from Terrence Floyd, asking him if he might be interested in something close to Charlotte, NC, running security for a businessman who seemed to have more fear for his life than your average CEO might be expected to. The pay was good, better than the Marshals. Though the job itself sounded morally ambiguous and not especially stimulating, it certainly sounded like something he could do. 

After he hung up the phone, Raylan drove over to Ava's house. Boyd's truck wasn't there. If what Bob had said was true, he wanted to know what the hell was going on. He shouldn't want to, he knew. He should stay out of it. He just couldn't. 

Ava answered the door, eyes tired and puffy. She barely reacted when she saw him, just left the door open and turned to walk back inside. Raylan followed. She handed him a drink and sat down on the living room sofa. 

"If you came here lookin' for Boyd, you ain't gonna find him," she said dully. 

Raylan sat down on the sofa with her and took a drink. "Where's he staying at? The cabin?"

"I think. He wouldn't tell me, though. He says he don't deserve me, don't deserve anyone. He told me he wouldn't change what he'd done to get me out, but he's having a hard time living with it just the same." 

She looked up at him, and her face was so sad. She said, "Raylan, I don't know how to say this to you, because it sounds like such a lie. But I am so sorry for what happened. I never...I didn't...I was real jealous of you and Boyd. You were out here, you could be with him, I was so afraid I would just fade away for him. That you would become so much more real to him than I was. But I didn't wish you harm, ever. Honest to God, I didn't."

"I don't hold you responsible for his decision, Ava." 

"Raylan, he loves you so much." Tears spilled out of her welling eyes and streamed down her face. "I don't even know what to do with that. I can't hate him for it. It'd be easier if I could, but I love him too much. I can't seem to hate you either, not now. Not when you've...I'm just so sorry. This must have hurt you so badly, for him to..." 

She looked at him with something like dawning horror, as if she were only just now thinking through all the implications of what Boyd had done. Raylan gazed back and let it sink in. He didn't blame her, but that didn't mean he didn't want her to feel a little guilty, just the same.

"Thanks for the drink," Raylan said after a bit, rising to his feet. He handed her the empty glass. "I'm starting a job in North Carolina in a few weeks. Maybe when I'm out of the picture, you and him can move forward. If you even still want that."

He said good bye then and left, driving around aimlessly for awhile, but somehow ending up out at Bo Crowder's old hunting cabin. Boyd's truck was parked outside, and when Raylan walked past it, he saw Boyd laid out flat in the back of it. 

He stood watching him for a bit. Boyd wasn't sleeping, he was simply lying very still, looking up at the sky with a half empty bottle beside him. 

Raylan went over to the side of the truck bed and leaned in. "So, you're thinking self-pity and bourbon is what's gonna make this all better?"

Still staring upwards, Boyd said, "Nothing can do that, Raylan. I ain't fooling myself."

"God, you're an asshole. You sacrifice me to get her out, and you destroy yourself and her in the process too. What a pointless fuckin' exercise. Look, Boyd, I'm leaving Kentucky before the end of the month. I got work. I'm gonna keep living my life. Maybe if you could stop being a goddamn little bitch about things and own the choices you've made, you could too. You used to be able to do that. What the hell happened?"

Boyd sat up. His face was a rainbow of healing bruises. "I love you, that's what fucking happened. Please don't hit me again, okay? My head hurts already. It nearly killed me to do what I did. It put a hole in me bigger than the one you made with that bullet."

Raylan shook his head. "That don't do me any good, Boyd. Just...go back to Ava. You did this, don't make her pay for it. You have my permission to be happy, if you can manage it."

He started to walk away, then turned back and added, "That night at the swimming hole? I guess that was your way of saying goodbye?"

Boyd nodded, his eyes dark with sorrow.

Raylan nodded back and said, "Thanks for that. It was beautiful." 

Boyd made a choked noise at that, but Raylan didn't turn around again. He got in his car and drove away. He didn't see Boyd again before he left town, but he did hear from Constable Bob that he'd moved back in with Ava. 

Raylan returned to Kentucky about a month after he left, for a three day weekend, to see his daughter. It was just over a five hour drive, and he'd discussed it up front with his new employer. It was the one thing he wouldn't budge on. He wasn't going to abandon his child, he wanted a relationship with her. 

Winona didn't want him staying at the house - she said they'd only end up screwing and making things more confusing. He stayed at a hotel, then drove to Harlan for the second night, after spending the day with them. He wanted to check on the house. Bob was still keeping an eye on it for him, but he wanted to see for himself. Some day he'd bring his daughter there, when she was old enough. He thought she should know where he comes from. 

It was a beautiful night, only just starting to get chilly after dark. He found an old jacket of Arlo's in the hall closet and pulled it on, then got in the car and started driving. He knew where he wanted to go, but he didn't really know what for. 

He turned down a rutted dirt road, half-overgrown with brush, and very familiar. He parked off to the side where the vegetation was flattened down from other vehicles, and walked further on. 

As he approached the water, he realized he wasn't alone. There was a person sitting quietly on the bank, facing the water. There was only one person it could be. Raylan walked up and stood next to him. He didn't speak for a long time, but finally said, "I didn't understand what made me want to come here."

Boyd looked up, but Raylan didn't want to meet his eyes just then. "It's quite a coincidence. I ain't sure what made me think to come here either."

Raylan did look down then and said, "You telling me this is the only time you've been here since...that night? We just happened to have the idea at the same time?"

"Well," Boyd said, shifting uncomfortably, "maybe not the _only_ time. I mean...it ain't like I come here all the time. Just..." He trailed off and looked away. "I been back a few times, I guess. Things become clearer to me here, somehow. It hurts, this place. I think I need that. It lets me manage it the rest of the time."

Raylan sat down next to him. They didn't talk for awhile, just sat and listened to the frogs and the crickets. "Maybe that's why I came too. For it to hurt me. So I'd remember why I'm supposed to be pissed at you. Why I can't just call you up 'cause I'm in town. Even though I want to."

"Is it working?"

"You bein' here kind of throws a wrench into it." 

"I could go, if you want, Raylan. I don't want to cause you any more problems. If the best thing for you is never to see me again, that's what you should do."

Raylan shook his head slowly. "I have no idea what's best anymore." 

Raylan laid back in the grass and stared upwards. Boyd turned his body and looked down at him, a cautious but questioning look on his face. When Raylan sighed and put a hand on his arm, Boyd closed his eyes briefly and let out a breath. 

Boyd laid down on his side, propped up on an elbow so he could look down at Raylan's face. He reached out and smoothed the hair away from Raylan's brow, then kept stroking his head until Raylan took hold of his wrist. 

"I don't know what's best," Raylan repeated, "I only know what I want. I wish to God it wasn't you."

"I know that," Boyd said. "Would you believe me if I said that I'd have that desire taken from you, if I could? So you could be happy."

"Probably not," Raylan said. Boyd laid his head down on Raylan's shoulder, and Raylan huffed softly. "Would you have it taken from yourself?"

"No," Boyd answered. "Even when you most hated me, I could never have chosen not to love you." 

They stayed for an hour or so, holding onto one another. Neither asked for more than that, not even a kiss. When they said goodbye, Raylan didn't say anything about a next time, and Boyd didn't ask. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Raylan pulled up in front of Winona’s house on a Thursday afternoon. His daughter Frannie came running to the screen door, and he pulled it open to scoop her up in his arms. Winona came walking up behind her, frowning slightly. 

“You really want to do this?” she asked. 

“I want her to know her history,” Raylan replied. “Like I never got to.”

She sighed and sent the girl off to her room to get her teddy bear and pick out books to look at in the car. When she’d run off, Winona turned to Raylan and said, “And you’ll bring her back before _he_ comes over?”

Raylan hesitated. “I will because you asked, but...I don’t want to keep that from her forever, Winona. She has a right to know who I am, and who’s in my life. The longer I wait, the harder it’s gonna be. If she knows from the start, she won’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

Winona’s face hardened a bit at that. “I know what you’re trying to do, Raylan, and it won’t work. You’re not about to make me feel guilty about this. You know damn well, if you had a normal boyfriend I wouldn’t ask you to hide that from her. My god, he’s not even your boyfriend. He’s some married criminal you see every couple months and screw for a weekend.”

Raylan was pretty sure she knew it wasn’t exactly like that, but he didn’t blame her for choosing to look at it that way. In truth, he had no idea how he’d ever be able to explain his relationship with Boyd to his daughter, which is why he thought it would be a lot better to just let her grow up knowing him as Daddy’s friend. She’d figure it out eventually, either way. But maybe that was chickenshit too. 

He got her things packed in the trunk, buckled her into her pink car seat, and kissed her on the forehead. “Where we going, daddy?” Frannie asked. 

Raylan smiled at her. Just the sound of her voice made him want to cry sometimes. He often thought about moving closer, and maybe one day he would, but he didn’t feel ready to be back in Kentucky permanently. “We’re gonna visit some of our kin, baby,” he said. “My mama’s family, who I never got to know when I was little. They want to meet you. You’re named for her, you know.”

She fell asleep on the drive to Harlan. They went to the house first, and he fixed her a hot dog and gave her some grapes to eat. He was certain Winona wouldn’t have counted that as a balanced meal, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt a few times a year. 

“Now listen, honey,” Raylan told her, “these people are real nice, but they might look a little different from people you’re used to.” He really didn’t know how much three year olds noticed that sort of thing, but he was hoping to avoid any embarrassing questions. “They dress a little different, and a lot of the men have beards. They might talk a little different, too. But they’re all looking forward to meeting you, because they loved my mother, and you would have been her granddaughter.”

“Okay,” she said. He picked her up and hugged her, then set her down and told her to go use the potty. He hoped she’d be able to make it through without going up there, because he wasn’t sure what to expect as far as facilities. 

He’d visited a few times since moving out of Kentucky, and had sat with Mary over coffee and talked about his mother. The first time, on his second trip back, he’d been afraid to go up there, partly because of what had happened when he was looking for Drew Thompson, but mostly because he was sure news of his personal and professional disgrace had made it up the mountain. He didn’t know how they might react to that, but he thought it had to be bad.

He brought proof of his kinship with him the first time, but as it turned out, they remembered him. Once they accept your claim, they know who you are. None of the men who accompanied him to Mary’s cabin said anything to him about his business, nor anything at all, really. Mary agreed to talk with him, and all but one of them left. The one who stayed, Cope, sat in the small kitchen while she received Raylan in a shabby but tidy living room. 

“You here seekin’ some other mysterious fugitive, Raylan Givens?” She didn’t smile, but Raylan thought there was a glint of humor in her eyes.

“No, ma’am. I don’t do that no more, as you may be aware. I’m here hoping to learn about my mother’s family. I have a child now, and it’s become important to me to know.”

She eyed him up for a bit, then said, "You and that boy you was up here with. Y'all didn't seem so friendly then."

Raylan met her eyes and smiled. "No, ma'am," he replied. "I'll tell you what you want to know. Problem is, I don't know what that is, so you'll have to ask me."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he drew in a quick breath, audible enough to raise a questioning look from her. 

"Sorry- it's only, you looked just like my aunt Helen a second ago. I still miss her."

Her face softened in sympathy, and she said, "You and him come up together? Boyd Crowder?"

Raylan nodded. "Sort of," he said. "School, the mine."

"You and him get up to things together back in them days?" She looked like she might be laughing at him, even though she hadn't cracked a smile. He didn't know how she did that.

"I guess you could put it that way," Raylan said. "We loved each other. That's how I would put it. Ma'am."

Now she did smile, a little. "Well, it happens. I ain't one to make a big fuss over such things. So you come back to town and start up again, but it ain't the same. I know what he did to you, boy, and why he did it."

Raylan nodded. He didn't want to tell her he'd forgiven Boyd. He was sure she'd just think he was pathetic. He thought it was very possible he _was_ pathetic, and that his reasons for relenting were only weak justifications. He'd called to tell Boyd that he'd be in Harlan. He thought he might want more than a hug this time.

"I won't pry no more," Mary said. "You're a grown man, you can handle your business. Now, what would you like to know about Frances?"

They talked for an hour or so, and then he went home to find Boyd waiting there for him. Raylan fucked him hard and wouldn't let him come until he begged. Then he woke him up in the middle of the night and did it again. 

Boyd probably told Raylan he loved him twenty times over the course of following day and night, but Raylan couldn't bring himself to return the sentiment. He'd stopped hitting him in response, though. 

Now, three years later, he was driving up the mountain with his daughter in tow. When they got out, Cope and two younger guys, Kenny and Axel, came up and said hey. Kenny picked Frannie up like he did it every day and swept her onto his shoulders. Raylan fully expected her to start wailing, but maybe she was too shocked, because she just looked around with a dazed expression on her face. When she caught Raylan's eye, he gave her a reassuring smile, and she was okay.

Mary and all the other older ladies cooed over her a bit, told her she looked just like her gramma when she was little, and gave her sweets. Frannie was an outgoing little girl, and once she had gotten her bearings, she had plenty of things to say to anyone who would listen. 

While Frannie was explaining _Doc McStuffins_ to Cope, Mary pulled Raylan aside and said, "She looks like Frances, but she's a lot less timid than your mama was."

Raylan nodded. "She takes after her mother. Lucky for her.”

“Heard your boy got married,” Mary said. “Don’t suppose you made it to the weddin’.”

Raylan smiled faintly. “Might have done,” he replied, “but they just went to the courthouse. Neither of them got much kin left, to speak of.”

“You see him, still?” 

“You’re just as nosy as Helen, too,” Raylan muttered. “I’m seeing him tomorrow, I’ll give him your regards if you like.”

Mary snorted. “No need,” she said. 

“Any more of my private business you’d like to know about?” Raylan asked. 

He thought she might want to know what Ava’s feelings were on the subject. He’d been worried about that, himself. The night after he’d run into Boyd at the swimming hole, she’d shown up at his house early in the morning. His stomach had clenched, and if he’d had any doubts that he still wanted to be with Boyd, they would have been vanquished in that second. He hadn’t been certain how he’d respond if she was there to tell him no, to put her foot down. 

As soon as he opened the door, Ava pushed forward and hugged him. It took him a few seconds to respond, because it was the last thing he’d expected, but then he hugged her back. “I’m so glad, Raylan,” she said, “he was so different when he came home last night. So much better.”

“Ava, we didn’t-”

“I know,” she said. “But I really don’t care, either. That ain’t nothing anyway. That ain’t what it’s about. He loves you. You forgave him. Right? That’s what that was?”

Raylan gave half a shrug and said, “I’m forgiving him. It might take awhile. But I’m working on it.”

She smiled in what looked like huge relief. “You’ll call when you’re in town again? Call him, I mean. I don’t need to be involved. After today.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said. Raylan gave her a wry grin. “You gonna threaten me again over what you’ll do if I try to steal him?”

She fixed him with a stern look and said, “That still stands.” Her face softened. “Some day this won’t be enough for you, though, Raylan. What happens then?”

“I don’t do too well, thinking ahead like that, Ava. I don’t know what’s gonna happen. This is okay for now.”

It was still okay, after three years, and Raylan had come to the conclusion that this might be as much intimacy as he desired, or was even capable of sustaining over time. He slept with whoever he pleased, even dated casually, but it was hard to imagine giving over anything significant of himself to another person. He didn’t discount the possibility entirely because, as he’d told Ava, he had no idea what might happen. He’d finally learned that lesson, and it had only taken him forty years and a lifetime of mistakes.

Mary didn’t ask any more questions, and eventually Frannie came walking up to him and reached up to him so he’d lift her into his arms. 

“You tired, little one?” he murmured to her. She just nodded and laid her head in his neck, so he said their goodbyes and drove back down the mountain. 

While he was driving her back to Winona’s the next day, Boyd called him to check what time he should get to the house. 

“I should be back around four,” Raylan said. “You want me to pick up anything in particular on the way?”

“Beef lo mein from that Chinese place?”

“Alright,” Raylan said. “And shrimp toast?”

“Please,” Boyd replied, and Raylan could hear him smiling. “Can’t wait to see you, Raylan.”

“Same here.” 

He hung up and glanced at Frannie in the rear view mirror. “You okay back there, kid?”

“Yes,” she said, with the most adorable little lisp he’d ever heard. “Who were you talking to, Daddy?”

“My friend, honey.” He paused. Winona hadn’t said he couldn’t talk about Boyd. “His name is Boyd and we’ve been friends since we were kids.” A bit simplistic, but that was okay for the time being. “He’s gonna come visit me after I drop you off. When I come visit you, I usually visit with him, too. Maybe some day, you can both visit me together, would that be okay?”

“Yes,” she said again, and Raylan felt like his heart was too big for his chest, for a minute. 

She was asleep when he pulled up in front of Winona’s house, and carried her upstairs to her bed. He was about to sneak out, when she woke up briefly, bleary eyed and confused. “Daddy?”

“Hey, sweetie,” Raylan whispered, kneeling down and kissing her forehead. “You’re home. I’ll call you real soon, alright? We can Skype.”

“Okay, daddy. Bye.” She was already closing her eyes and drifting off again. He looked down at her and wanted to grab her back up again and take her home. Or just crawl into her little bed and cuddle up next to her, take a nap among her stuffed animals and the sweet smell of her hair. 

“Bye,” he said, and closed the door softly as he left.

Boyd was at the house when he arrived, but he hadn’t gone inside, despite still having that key Arlo had given him, all that time ago. Raylan had forgotten to take it back when he was so enraged, and then later, when remembered, he figured it was alright. Sometimes he called and asked Boyd to check on things for him, even though he still paid Bob Sweeney to do it. He would never admit it, but he just liked the idea of Boyd being in the house, sometimes. 

One time, maybe a year into this new arrangement, he got a call from Boyd, asking him to please tell Bobby Sweeney that it’s alright for him to be at the house. Apparently, the Constable had seen Boyd’s vehicle in the drive, and had gone to confront him. 

“Raylan?” Bob said, after Boyd had handed him the phone.

“Hey, Bob,” Raylan said. “It’s okay, I asked Boyd to come by. I thought I might have left some paperwork there the last time I was in town, and I asked him to mail it to me if he could find it.”

“But- But he- Raylan, Jesus, man, what the hell are you doing? Why does he have a key to your place?” He sounded even more distressed than he had the day he’d first found out about them. Which, really, was understandable, Raylan had to admit.

“Honestly, I ain’t gonna try to explain it to you right now. It probably won’t make much sense, and anyway, I don’t feel like it. Just try not to fret too much about it. Thanks for making sure, though, Bob. I can’t say I blame you for checking in when you see unsavory characters milling about my house. Can you hand him back the phone now?”

Bob didn’t really answer, just made some sort of disgusted yet resigned noise. Boyd told him he couldn’t find the papers, and then made a point of telling him how much he missed him and wanted to get his hands on him. Raylan rolled his eyes and said he was sure Bobby was just as shocked as Boyd seemed to be hoping he was.

As Raylan pulled up he found Boyd sitting in the bed of his truck, his legs dangling out the back, reading a paperback. Raylan’s breath caught short, just for a second, because for a second he could have been any age, and Raylan felt like he could be too. Only for a second. Those moments happened from time to time with Boyd. 

He parked and got out, walked up to Boyd and climbed on top of him, his knees straddling Boyd’s thighs. He took Boyd’s face between his hands and kissed him, pushing him down into the truck bed. By the time he’d finished the kiss, Boyd was breathless and looking at him with something like wonder. 

“What was that for?” he asked.   
“Just missed you,” Raylan said. He climbed back out and jogged over to the car to retrieve their food. “Did you want to take this somewhere and eat?”

Boyd shook his head. “Maybe we could eat a little later.” He licked his lips. 

Raylan grinned. “Sure, but the shrimp toast won’t be very good.”

Boyd growled and grabbed at his waist. Raylan kissed him, and they went inside. Like almost every other visit, their first time upon reunion was a bit frantic. Also as usual, Boyd told Raylan how much he loved him, over and over, and Raylan responded with kisses and caresses, but never in similar words. Boyd had never asked him why, nor had he ever stopped saying it himself. 

After, they stayed in bed, slumped against each other for awhile. Eventually, Boyd got up to grab the lo mein from the kitchen counter, along with two forks. 

“I told Frannie about you yesterday,” Raylan said, resting his arm across Boyd’s shoulders. 

“Did you? What did you say?”

“I told her you were my friend and that I visit with you sometimes. And I said...some time she could meet you. You could come here when she’s staying over.” Raylan busied himself with the food, suddenly, concentrating on getting the slippery noodles on his fork.

Boyd didn’t answer right away, and when Raylan looked over, he had leaned his head back and his eyes were closed. He said, “I would be honored to meet her whenever you say the time is right, Raylan.” 

“Boyd, I know I don’t...there are things I haven’t been able to say to you, and-”

“Raylan, it’s alright.” Boyd’s eyes were open now, and he set the carton down on the nightstand so he could take Raylan’s hands in his. “You don’t have to. You deserve however much time you need. You deserve a lot more than I can offer you, anyway. I love you so m-”

“Boyd, will you please shut up a minute? I’m trying to do something, here.” Boyd snapped his mouth closed. “I know how you feel, okay? I know you probably fear that I still doubt you, but the truth is, I only did for a very short time. I know you, Boyd. I’ve always known you, always understood you. The choice you made, I might have made myself in your shoes. But, you know, that didn’t make it hurt less. For our relationship, our history, to be something you _factored in_ to your decision, but came up short. It hurt that you chose Ava over me. It’s really as simple as all that. I get why. But it fucking hurt me. All I could think was, ‘you loved me first, you asshole, that ought to count for something.’” 

Raylan watched as tears slid down Boyd’s cheeks. He stayed silent and cast his eyes down, but held onto Raylan’s hands a little tighter. 

“But,” Raylan continued, “I couldn’t hold onto that feeling. It was too painful, and part of me knew it was about half bullshit anyway. I knew you didn’t really pick her over me, and I knew you loved me the same as always. What made that whole thing so bad was that I felt you’d stolen yourself, and all our memories, away from me by doing what you did. So I let you back in, because _I_ wanted you there."

"Raylan-" Boyd tried to cut in, but Raylan held up his hand. 

"You'll get your chance. I'm talking now, but I'm almost done. There's really only one thing left I wanted to say, anyhow." Raylan pulled one of his hands free and put it to Boyd's cheek, brushing away some of the wetness. "I know, that you know, I never stopped...feeling a certain way for you. And you know why I couldn't say it, right?"

Boyd nodded. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it and looked expectantly at Raylan.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm glad you're still in my life. Absolutely no one understands this relationship, but that's alright. Fuck 'em."

"And?" Boyd prompted.

"And what?" Raylan asked, far too innocently.

Boyd huffed loudly. "Raylan. Baby, I got enough patience for you to last us a lifetime, but that don't mean you gotta be a dick about it."

Raylan leaned in and kissed him very softly, then moved even closer in and whispered into his ear, "Love you." 

Boyd wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held on tight, burying his face in Raylan's neck. He didn't let go for a very long time, until finally Raylan asked if he wanted him to stick the shrimp toast in the oven. 

They passed the weekend quietly. Boyd, as was his habit, said "I love you" many times, but Raylan didn't repeat it again until it was time for them to leave. Boyd was leaning against the side of his truck, and he pulled Raylan close to him. 

"Don't leave it too long, Raylan," he said. 

"I don't like to push it too far with Ava," Raylan said. "What if she gets fed up and decides to make you end it?"

Boyd looked him in the eyes, very seriously. "She won't. And Raylan, if she does, I'll choose you. I promise, okay? But she won't. She's really okay with it."

"You really would?" Raylan asked. "You'd..."

"Of course I would," Boyd said. He looked like he wanted to say more, to clarify, but in the end he just shrugged. 

"Thank you for saying that. Whether it's true or not. I love you, Boyd."

Boyd smiled happily at him. "I love you too, baby. I'll see you next time."

When Raylan got to work the next day, there was a vase with a dozen red roses on the receptionist's desk. He smiled at her. "Someone special send you those?"

She raised her eyebrows at him and said, "Those aren't for me. Look at the card."

It read, "Raylan - Ain't no law against sending someone flowers. -Boyd

Raylan felt his face heat up, all at once, felt the roots of his hair prickle with it. He picked up the vase and glanced very quickly at the pretty, and very young, receptionist, who was clearly trying to hold down a fit of giggles. 

"Thanks," he muttered, then high-tailed it into his office and closed the door. 

A few minutes later, he got an email from her that read, "Whoever Boyd is, I think he likes you." A comedian, of course. 

He could barely look at her the rest of the day. But his eyes kept going back to the flowers, and he felt a strange sense of satisfaction. He'd gotten flowers from a man, and the worst that had happened was someone teasing him that someone liked him. It was so far from what he'd feared back then, when Boyd had told him about the teacher and his boyfriend. 

The next day, Raylan took the framed picture of himself and Boyd from his bedside table, and brought it into work. He was there more than he was at home anyway. He'd asked Bob Sweeney to take it, who had grumbled and resisted, but eventually given in. They sat side by side on Raylan's front porch steps, knees and shoulders touching, leaning back on their elbows. 

He showed it to the girl at reception when he came in, saying, "That's Boyd. You're right, he does like me."

She smiled and blushed, and said, "You're real cute together."

"Thanks," Raylan said. He set the picture on his desk and looked at it awhile. _Yes,_ he thought, _beautiful._


End file.
